


Waylaid

by princesskay



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Asperger Syndrome, Blow Jobs, Bottom Adam, Falling In Love, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Romance, Spacedogs, SpacedogsSummer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 67,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7431944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nigel is on a 19 hour flight from Romania to Los Angeles when his flight is delayed at the Dallas-Forth Worth Airport. On the one day he just wants to get to his destination, everything seems to be going wrong. At the outset of rebuilding his life from the shambles it's fallen into, he meets Adam Raki, a strange, beautiful man with stars in his eyes. Adam, who is flying to Los Angeles to start a new job at the observatory,  is trying to start over, too, but it will take more than he and Nigel hitting it off for him to figure Nigel into his plans for the future.</p><p>Picks up after both films Charlie Countryman and Adam, and converges Nigel's and Adam's plots for a love story written in the stars :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Universe Hates Us Both

**Author's Note:**

>  
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> [](http://s1353.photobucket.com/user/glitterkitty091/media/PicsArt_07-07-05.52.50_zpsqqoysczj.jpg.html)  
>   
> 

Nigel fucking hated flying. He hated the claustrophobic seating, the invasion of personal space by the person crammed into the seat next to him, the bone-rattling jolt of the craft taking off, and the sickening feeling spiraling through his stomach as the plane tilted and curved into it's proper course.

He fucking hated not being able to smoke. He hated the dry peanuts, and the cheap beer. He hated clambering over someone's legs to use a bathroom the size of a linen closet.

If Nigel could avoid riding on an airplane for the rest of his life, he would have done so.

Instead, here he was, thirty thousand miles above the ground, his head pounding despite all the painkillers he'd swallowed down before take-off.

Being an international flight, the plane was bigger than usual, having only two seats on either side of the aisle instead of three. He had a telephone and a small TV screen on the seat in front of him to watch movies if he so desired, but if he focused on anything other than the puffy, cotton ball clouds outside the window, he knew he would become ill.

Nigel glanced over his shoulder, grunting a curse in Romanian.

The flight attendants were making their rounds with the carts of snacks and drinks. They started at the back, working their way toward the front, where Nigel was seated. They were taking too damn long. He needed water, or some of the cheap alcohol. Anything to ease the nausea churning in his belly, and the headache piercing his skull.

Besides all that, the woman seated next to him wouldn't stop staring out the corner of her eye.

People stared at him often. Mostly because they were scared, or intimidated. Right now, he knew the woman next to him was staring because of the bandage wrapped around his head. Nigel wondered if the wound started bleeding through if the woman would stop staring, or if it would prompt her to stare harder.

Nigel leaned his head delicately back against the headrest, and blew out a sigh.

_If your head wasn't so hard, you might be dead._

It was one of the last things he'd heard out of his doctor back home in Bucharest. Well, not home any longer. He wouldn't be going back to Romania for a very long time. It was on to the US.

_New prospects! New business! This could really open things up for us._

That hopeful remark was one of the last things he'd heard out of his second-in-command. It made moving to the US to avoid prosecution and a prison sentence in Romania sound a good thing. Like a new tier for their drug and arms trade.

At this moment, Nigel didn't give two shits about the business. His head hurt too goddamn much to even think numbers and strategies.

Maybe he would just disappear … Cut off contact, change his name, forget he'd ever been called “Boss.” Forget he'd loved and lost the most beautiful woman he'd ever met …

“Would you like water, sir?”

Nigel opened his eyes to see the stewardess had finally gotten to his seat.

“Water.” He said.

She poured out a glass, and reached across the staring woman to hand it to him. He offered her a brief smile as their fingers brushed, and she blushed.

“Snacks?” She asked.

“No thank you, darling.”

She bit back a nervous chuckle, and kept pushing her cart.

Shit, he still had the touch. If his head hadn't been pounding like a fucking jackhammer, he might have considered persuading the woman to have a quick fuck in the tiny closet called a bathroom. Really, sex was the last thing from his mind; but his cock didn't agree.

Nigel shifted lower in his seat, and sipped on the cold water. Much to his surprise, it did wonders for his nausea and his headache. Maybe that was just his fucking brain making things up to ease the pain. Everything fucking hurt, down to his bones, down to his very soul. He had to find some relief somewhere.

Nigel finished off his water and cranked the seat back as far as he could without disturbing the person behind him.

He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the woman next to him. She was staring again. What did she want? To get away from him? To talk to him? To fuck him?

Whatever she wanted, it would be the first in a long time. Lately, Nigel realized, people mostly just wanted him dead.

 

~

 

“Well, this is it.”

Silence filled the car following Harlan's remark as Adam stared out the window at the dimly lit, crowded parking garage. A little ways off, a family pulled their suitcases into the elevator that would take them up, up, up to their departure gate. Adam wondered where they were going.

“I'll ask this one last time ...” Harlan said, “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

Adam pulled his gaze away from the closing doors of the elevator.

“Yes.” He said, “I'm sure.”

“Would you say you're fifty percent sure? Eighty?”

“One hundred.” Adam said, with a firm nod, “This is what I have to do, Harlan. Even if it scares me.”

“California's a long way off from Manhattan.” Harlan said, “I never been to California myself, but I hear it's big.”

“Bigger than Manhattan.” Adam said, “Manhattan is just an island. Los Angeles alone has a population of three point eight million, where Manhattan has only one point six.”

“Right, so you get what I mean.”

Adam looked down at the papers crumpled in his sweaty hands.

“My flight is departing in one hour.” He said, “We should go in.”

“All right.” Harlan said, “Let's do it.”

They stepped out of Harlan's car, and walked around back to retrieve Adam's suitcases from the back.

Adam was taking two suitcases, plus a carry-on and small bag of necessities that was allowed by the airline to go under the seat. The rest of his things Harlan would mail to him that week.

Harlan took one suitcase and the carry-on, and Adam took the other suitcase and the smaller bag. They trudged across the parking garage in silence, until they reached the elevator Adam had watched the family go into.

Harlan punched the button to take them up to Gate C.

Adam leaned against the wall as the elevator swayed smoothly upward.

He had never flown before in his life. He had never left Manhattan before this week. He'd lived on the same block most of his life. He knew the same people, the same faces, the same familiar places.

Inside, he was a quaking and terrified mess. He was going some place he'd never been, to do a job he'd never done, to meet people he'd never seen. It was his worst nightmare, but it was his future. He had to do this; he had to make it on his own. To prove that he could. To Dad, to Harlan … to Beth – to himself.

He could only hope to see some friendly faces along the way.

The doors of the elevator swished open to reveal the huge, bustling interior of the airport – one floor of it, at least.

Adam adjusted his grip on his suitcase, and took a deep breath.

_Andromeda, Antila, Apis, Aquarius, Aquila, Ara-_

“You have to remember to breathe before anything else.” Harlan said, putting a hand on Adam's arm.

“Right, I was just ...” Adam said, his explanation dying off as they stepped out of the elevator.

The sound of thousand voices hummed across the airport, and a recorded woman's voice warned passengers not to leave their baggage unattended. All around them, people in business suits, families, couples, people speaking in foreign languages, and all manner of other people marched up and down the tiled floor toward their destinations. None of them seemed concerned like Adam was.

“This is … a lot of people.” Adam whispered.

“They won't bite you.” Harlan said with a smile, “Everybody's just trying to get somewhere. Don't worry.”

Adam nodded. Right. Everyone is just trying to get somewhere. Just like him.

Harlan took off in the direction of the signs that pointed to Gate C. Adam tagged along behind, taking in the various restaurants and souvenir shops. Everything was shiny and brightly colored, dragging his attention from one thing to the next. Adam had never dreamed the airport would be this large, much less have an entire Starbucks inside of it.

Harlan brought them to a stop in front of a desk that read Delta.

“This is where we check in.” Harlan said, “Just go up and give the lady your papers, and she'll tag and take your luggage.”

“By myself?”

“After today, it's gonna be just you.” Harlan said, “You gotta do it on your own.”

“Right. Okay.”

Adam drew in a deep breath.

Taking his luggage from Harlan, he walked up to the desk.

“Hello.” He said to the woman.

“Hello.” She said, barely looking at him, “What's your flight?”

Adam glanced down at his papers, his mind going blank in the face of the question.

“I, um … It's … Sorry ...” He sputtered.

His carry-on slipped off his shoulder and spilled to the ground, sending him diving after it.

The woman peered over her podium, a confused frown registering on her brow.

“Are you all right, sir?”  
“Yes, I-” Adam said.

At this moment, his eyes settled on the flight number. He jumped back to his feet, and shoved the papers across the desk.

“Flight 1173 to Los Angeles, stop-over at Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport in Texas.”

She frowned, but a smile touched her mouth. She took the papers, and turned back to her computer to enter the information.

Adam watched forlornly as she tagged his luggage and hoisted it onto the conveyor belt. Being the curious person he was, he'd gone online and researched all about flying, only to be horribly disappointed by the horror stories. People losing their luggage, having to live without their clothes and toiletries for weeks before the airline located their suitcases somewhere in Hong Kong or something.

That wasn't tantamount to the possibilities of the airplane crashing, exploding, being hijacked or any other thing that could go wrong with a massive air craft thousands and thousands of miles above ground.

When Adam returned to Harlan, he was feeling slightly panicked.

“You look pasty.” Harlan pointed out, “Do you want to go to the bathroom?”

“No, no, I'm okay.” Adam said, “I just don't trust those people with my things.”

“Well you can't carry them on your lap on the plane.” Harlan said, patting his back, “It'll be fine.”

“You're probably right ...”

“Don't tell me you were up late last night reading the internet.”

“Maybe-”

“Adam, you'll learn soon enough that most people write reviews on websites because they're mad. Mostly, they're in the minority, but a comment section just gives them a chance to bitch. You can't listen to them most of the time.”

Adam considered Harlan's wisdom, and nodded.

“Harlan, you're a smart guy.” He said, “I'm glad you're here to help me.”

“Let's go. We have to get you through security.”

It was a long walk all the way down to Gate C, but as the line to security came into view, Adam wished it was longer. The TSA agents appeared none too friendly as they barked orders for the passengers to take off their shoes, and put their belongings through the metal detector.

“Just do what they say.” Harlan said, “They don't mean any harm; they just have a job to do.”

“I'm not a threat.” Adam said, with a firm nod, “So I have nothing to worry about.”

“Right.”

They stood in front of the roped off line, Adam clinging to his luggage, Harlan wearing a worried expression.

“This is it.” Harlan said, “This is where I stay behind.”

Adam drew in a shallow breath, and reminded himself not to panic. This was his future. He could be alone for the rest of his life.

Adam let go of his luggage, and flung himself into Harlan's arms.

“Oh, whoa.” Harlan said, taking a few steps back.

“Thank you so much.” Adam whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and his cheek against Harlan's shoulder, “Thank you for helping me after Dad died, and for helping me do this now.”

“You're welcome.” Harlan said, patting his back, “I wish all the best to you, Adam.”

Adam relinquished his arms after several long moments. He picked up his luggage, and faced the line to security with squared shoulders.

“I'm ready.” He said.

Harlan squeezed his shoulder.

“You know, your dad would be proud of you.”

Adam glanced at Harlan, swallowing back a wave of emotion.

“Thanks, Harlan.”

Dragging his luggage behind him, he stepped into the line to security and toward his future.

 

~

 

All in all, Nigel's flight from Bucharest to Los Angeles would total over nineteen hours. At halfway point, he debarked at Frankfurt, Germany, and caught a connecting flight to the Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport in Texas. From Texas, he would make the last leg of his journey to Los Angeles.

The flight trajectory was about the only thing he had planned out for the future. Sure, he had an apartment set up, but his life was about to become one monotonous day after another in an unfamiliar city.

At the airport in Frankfurt, Nigel bought a plastic-wrapped sandwich and a bottle of apple juice from one of the small vendors, went to the bathroom, and dragged his carry-on bags all the way across the airport to Gate B. He barely made the flight in time.

The plane was just as large as the previous one, but it felt more cramped with a family and squalling baby behind him. The couple spoke course German that Nigel understood scraps of. Neither of them were happy about being on this flight, much less dealing with a cranky baby.

Nigel would have much rather put a pillow over the child's face, if only to make the constant whining and whimpering stop. He'd barely slept on the flight from Bucharest to Frankfurt, and now that the painkillers were finally fucking working, he couldn't drift off with a baby screeching in his ear.

At last, he grabbed the headphones, and turned on a movie to ease the sound of crying. He didn't watch much of the film as it was some silly romantic comedy that made his stomach churn, but it was the lesser evil to the crying baby.

He didn't know how he would sleep once he reached L.A., where the timezone would be completely backwards from that of Bucharest.

What could be worse than getting shot in the fucking head? Jet-leg, that's fucking what.

The only plus side of this flight was that there was no rude, staring woman sitting next to him. The person who occupied the seat next to him was an older gentleman in a business suit who appeared to understand proper airplane decorum.

At long last, the baby behind him finally settled down, and the terribly campy rom-com came to an end.

Nigel put his seat back, and drifted off for what seemed like only a few seconds before he was jostled awake by turbulence and the captain's voice coming over the loudspeaker.

“We're about ten minutes out from Dallas, folks, and it looks like there's a bit of a squall coming in. There won't be any trouble landing the plane, so stay calm, but I do ask that everyone put on their seat belt and prepare for a bumpy ride.”

Nigel uttered a groan as the captain signed off over the speaker. A hushed murmur of concern spread across the plane despite the captain's assertions to remain calm.

Nigel closed his eyes and ignored the jar and rattle of the plane around him. He didn't have enough energy for panic.

 

~

 

Adam was surprised by how smoothly the boarding process and take-off went. There was clear instructions, single-file lines, and kind smiles from the stewardesses. When the airplane took off, Adam experienced only minimal pressure in his ears, and much to his surprise, the movement of the plane didn't bother his stomach.

He'd gotten a window seat, and the view was spectacular. He crowded up against the window, gasping and gaping in awe as the roads, buildings, and cars receded to the size of toys, then to specks, and then to nothing at all as they rose above the clouds.

Adam pulled out his cellphone and took dozens of picture of the white, billowing clouds below. He couldn't understand the nonchalance of the other passengers, who gazed ahead in boredom, or read a book.

Adam knew that in comparison to the entire world, the stratosphere, and the universe beyond, he wasn't very high at all, but he couldn't contain his awe and excitement over watching the clouds pass leisurely below them.

He was so focused on the view out the window that he was surprised when the seatbelt light overhead dinged to life, and the captain's voice came over the speakers.

“All right, folks, we're about fifteen minutes out from our destination. We're arriving in Dallas, Texas, and the time is 5:45. It's about eighty degrees here in Dallas, but it looks like there's a bit of storm on the horizon. I'm getting some reports of rain now, but it shouldn't stop us from landing safely. Expect a bit of turbulence, but otherwise, enjoy the landing.”

Adam squinted out the window ahead of them, trying to see the storm the captain was talking about. He could see hints of dark clouds ahead. As they grew closer, the clouds became thicker and grayer, swathing around the plane like ghostly fingers.

Adam leaned back in his seat as the plane shuddered against harsher winds.

Turbulence. He'd read about it before, and even more than necessary last night. He'd also looked at weather predictions, which had claimed a thirty percent chance of rain in Dallas, not a full on storm.

Adam suppressed a groan as the plane shuddered and buffeted harder in the wind. Rain dabbed across the window in tiny, speeding flecks that were smeared away almost the moment they landed.

Adam leaned down to pull his second carry-on bag out from under his seat. Opening the zipper, he fished inside for any one of his stim toys. His fingers wrapped around the bright orange squish ball. He clutched it in his hand, causing the gel within the ball to morph into a brilliant yellow color.

Adam kept his eyes on the color changing ball in his hands, focusing on the squish of gel between his fingers as the plane rattled on toward the ground.

He started reciting the constellations where he'd left off in the elevator, reverting to the old calming trick he'd defaulted to since childhood.

_Aries, Auriga, Bootes, Caelum,Camelopardalis, Cancer, Canes Venatici …_

The plane swayed, giving his stomach its first nauseous jolt.

He squeezed the ball harder between his hands.

_Canis Major, Canis Minor, Capricornus, Carina, Cassiopeia …_

Suddenly, without prelude, the turbulence came to halt, and Adam felt the plane accelerating at gravity defying speed toward the ground. He cracked his eyes open to see that they had breached the gunmetal, low-hanging clouds, and that the ground was in view. Rain struck and splashed across the window, but without the nauseating shuddering of the plane and with the Dallas-Fort Worth airport in sight, Adam felt he could breathe again.

As the plane surged toward the ground, Adam closed his eyes and whispered the constellations for good measure.

_Centaurus, Cepheus, Cetus, Chamaeleon, Circinus, Columba …_

The plane bumped and bounced as the front wheels struck the tarmac. Adam winced listening to the brakes squeal, clamping down hard to bring the speeding craft to a stop.

When they slowed to a crawl, Adam stared out the window at the other planes being prepped for take-off, and the small carts whizzing from craft to craft with loads of suitcases. The airport employees driving the carts, and guided the planes into their ports were all dressed in rain ponchos.

As they came to a stop, Adam could see that there was a storm coming. A big storm. Overhead, the sky was boiling with dark gray clouds that billowed thick and low across a gray-blue sky. It was the color of a thunderstorm, or worse if one took Texas weather into consideration. Adam had read all about storms in Texas. There was hail, there was flooding, there was destructive winds.

“This could be bad.”

Adam turned to see the young woman sitting next to him craning over his lap to look out the window.

“Do you live here?” Adam asked.

She nodded, “Coming home from visiting my parents up in Ohio. They've been having some cold weather up there, and if it comes down and runs into all the hot weather down here ...”  
“Tornado.” Adam whispered, his eyes widening.

“It could just be a thunderstorm, though.” She said, noting the fear in his eyes, “We get them all the time. Not from around here are you?”

Adam shook his head.  
“Manhattan.”

“I'm sure you've seen your share of cold weather, then.”

“Yeah. I have never seen a tornado before, but I've read all about them.” Adam said, “The largest tornado ever recorded was on El Reno, Oklahoma. It was two point six miles wide.”

“Wow … that's interesting.”

Adam nodded. “There were winds up to 295 miles per hour.”

“I don't know all the statistics, but I've seen my share of foul weather.” She said, “And as a Texan, I can tell you, this is shaping up to be a real squall. I hope you aren't going anywhere in a hurry.”

Adam frowned.

All of the passengers were getting up and grabbing their carry-on bags from the overhead. Adam waited in his seat until most of the aisle had cleared before he got up, and retrieved his own carry-on.

Clutching his bags, Adam walked down the gangway, and out into the airport. Holding his papers out in front of him, he scanned for the gate he was meant to be at, and realized he would have to walk quite a distance to where he needed to be.

He shoved one hand in his pocket to hold onto his squish ball, and started off down the crowded aisle toward his connecting flight.

The layover was meant to be only forty-five minutes long, but as Adam walked down the length of the airport, he could see the storm swelling outside the huge, glass windows. By the time Adam reached his gate, the clouds were roiling and nearly black, and the rain was beginning to smear the bland view of the runway and brown fields beyond.

When he glanced at the screen that noted the flight number, destination, and time, he saw bold, red letters that spelled DELAYED.

Adam released a weary sigh. Just as he'd feared.

Trudging to one of the open seats, Adam dropped his carry-on bags to floor beside him, and pulled out his cell phone.

When he dialed Harlan's number, the phone picked up after only two rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it's Adam.”

“Hey, Adam, how's the flight going?”

“I'm in Texas.” Adam said, “The flight is delayed for a storm.”

“Oh, no, that's no good. Do you know how long it'll be?”

“No, I have no clue.” Adam said, “I talked to a woman on the plane who lives here in Texas, and she said that it could be bad. What if there's a tornado? What if I get stranded here? What if-”

“Adam, Adam, listen.” Harlan interrupted, gently.

When Adam's fearful sputtering tapered off, he continued.

“If your flight is delayed, the airline will figure out how to get you to Los Angeles. They won't leave you to fend for yourself.”

Adam closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath.

“Right. They know what they're doing.”

“Yes, they do. They've dealt with hundreds, if not thousands of delays. If there is a tornado, and the flight is canceled, they will make sure you are in a safe location and that your flight will be rescheduled.”

Adam glanced over his shoulder as another passenger's bag glanced off his shoulder. The man was grumbling under his breath as he dropped down into the chair next to Adam, spilling his carry-on duffel bag to the floor, and muttering a hardly muted curse. He carried the scent of cigarette smoke and cheap beer the airline offered.

Adam's nose wrinkled. He turned away from the other passenger, and ducked his head against the cell phone.

“I'm sorry ahead of time if I call again.” Adam said, “This is just making me really nervous. You know I'm not good with stress.”

“You can call me as many times as you like, Adam.” Harlan assured, “I'm always here for you, son, you know that.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you, Harlan. I'll go now.”

“Okay. Be safe out there.”

“I'll try. Bye.”

Adam brought the phone to his lap, and punched the _end call_ button. Harlan's picture icon disappeared, and Adam stared at the wallpaper of his phone, a night sky illuminated by the Aurora Borealis.

He turned his chin against his shoulder to gaze out the large glass windows behind them. The sky was roiling darker and faster than the last time he'd looked, and gusts of wind tugged at every tree and loose object. Rain spattered intermittent against the window pane, the billowing clouds threatening to burst with a much stronger deluge.

“It's a shitstorm all right.”

Adam's gaze jerked to the stranger next to him, momentarily appalled the gruff man was speaking directly to him.

“Ever been to Texas?” The man continued, “This kind of bullshit is routine here.”

Adam chewed his lower lip, and turned his concerned gaze back to the window.

“I live- … um _lived_ in Manhattan.” Adam said, “I'm used to snow, not this.”

“Romania.”

Adam's eyes darted back to the man. He was trying not to stare at the bandage wrapped around the stranger's head.

“What?”

“That's where I'm coming from.” The man said, waving his hand. He sank lower in his seat, and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Fucking Bucharest. Just spent fifteen fucking hours on two other planes just be delayed three fucking hours away from my final destination.”

Adam blinked at the barrage of foul language that hadn't abated since the other passenger's arrival. He hadn't researched much about Romania; maybe they all talked like this in Europe.

“Are you hurt?” Adam asked.

The man's eyes swung to Adam, heavy and dour.

“That's a little obvious, isn't it?”

“Sorry, that was rude.” Adam said, cringing and flushing hot.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and silently chided himself. There was etiquette. He couldn't just ask people personal questions before he even knew their name. Dad had always been so good and gentle at reminding him …

“One's got to wonder.” The man said, “Don't worry, kid. Some fucking lady on the plane gaped at me the whole fucking seven hours of the first flight, and she didn't have the decency to apologize.”

“What's your name?” Adam blurted.

The man's eyebrows rose momentarily, but he shrugged.

“Nigel.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking … I shouldn't ask personal questions before I know someone's name.” Adam explained, “I'm Adam, by the way.”

“Well, Adam,” Nigel said, glancing at his wrist watch, “It appears as if we're bound to be stuck here together for some time.”

“I hope the flight isn't canceled.” Adam said, “I researched on the computer for a week about flying, and they might have to put us in a hotel.”

“Trying to get to L.A. are you?”

“Yes. I'm moving there for a job at Mount Wilson Observatory to build microcircuits for satellite guidance and navigation systems.”

“You must have some pretty big brains in your head, kid.”

“My brains can't be bigger than anyone else's. It's physiologically impossible.”

Nigel gazed at him blankly for a few brief seconds before breaking into a low chuckle.

“You're fucking serious, aren't you?”

“Serious, yes … I mean, it's just that what you said doesn't make sense … biologically-”

“I mean you're pretty goddamn smart, working with fucking mircrochips or whatever.”

“Microcircuits.”

“Right, right. Microcircuits.”

“Smart has a lot of different definitions.” Adam said, “I'm what people call 'book smart'. I'm not very people smart, or socially smart-”

“I think you're fucking charming.”

The flow of words spilling from Adam's mouth came to an abrupt stop. He could feel his face growing hotter in a strange, giddy way.

“Charming.” He echoed, a frown twisting his brow.

“I mean, something is most definitely up with you.” Nigel said, “But you're not an ignorant ass like most of the people I'm forced to associate with.”

Adam blinked, and rubbed a hand over his forehead.

“I, uh … I'm not sure if you're complimenting me or not because it's difficult for me to read people.”

He grabbed at his bags, and darted out of the chair to escape the conversation.

“Hey, hey, where are you going?”

Adam looked down to see Nigel's hand on his forearm, and disappointed expression softening his eyes.

Disappointment was easy. Anger. Joy.

Adam could differentiate these simple emotions on people's faces, but disappointment was the first clear reading he could get from Nigel's rugged, guarded face.

“We just met, darling. You should stay.”

Adam's throat clenched.

Darling?

Was it normal for a practical stranger to refer to him by such an intimate expression? Between his pounding heart and giddy, spinning head, Adam couldn't be sure what was right or wrong.

“I, eh ...”

Adam glanced around the crowded seating area, and realized he couldn't sit anywhere else without being as close to someone else as he was to Nigel right now.

Adam sank reluctantly to his seat, and shoved his carry-on bag between his feet.

“I'm just hoping Los Angeles will be kinder to me than Bucharest was.” Nigel muttered, “You seem like a good sign.”

“Is that where you got hurt?” Adam asked.

Nigel gave a stiff nod.

“How did it happen … If, I mean- If that's not too personal.”

Nigel turned his gaze to Adam, and without blinking, said, “I was shot.”

“Are you .. joking?” Adam asked, cautiously.

“I wouldn't joke about it. It was a fucking nightmare.”

“Less than ten percent of people who are shot in the head survive.” Adam said, “Most people die before they even reach the hospital. Fifty percent who make it to the hospital die, and fifty percent who survive the hospital endure side affects like seizures for the rest of their lives.”

“I was one fucking lucky son of a bitch, then.”

“Are you not happy?”

“About getting shot? Shit, kid, of course I'm not fucking happy.”

“I mean … you're not happy about surviving?”

“I've gotten shot plenty of times.” Nigel said, “I can deal with pain. The circumstances just happened to be … more difficult than usual.”

“How many times have you been shot?” Adam asked, his mouth hanging agape.

“This is the fourth time. And I've been stabbed twice. Once in the back, that motherfucker.”

Adam stared at Nigel's placid expression for a few shocked moments. He still couldn't tell if Nigel was messing with him or not. The stories sounded too elaborate to be true, but Nigel's voice carried an inflection of genuine veracity.

“I take it you've never been shot.” Nigel said, giving a gruff laugh.

“No. And I've never been in contact with someone who has.”

“You seem like a curious person.” Nigel said, “Go ahead, ask whatever you want.”

“I don't think you could answer my medical questions.” Adam said.

“Why, because I'm too fucking dumb?”

“Because circuitry is easy. Medicine isn't.”

“You could have just said 'yes'.”

“I'm not rude … at least, I try not to be.”

Nigel shrugged, and leaned farther back in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest, and regarded Adam with narrowed eyes.

“So, you're moving to a job all the way across the country for a job that's small potatoes to you?”

“Just because it's easy for me doesn't mean I don't enjoy it.” Adam said.

“You really must enjoy it to move from Manhattan to Los Angeles.”

“I do. It's the astronomical aspects of the job that interest me. I'll get to work in an observatory, and see images of the universe every day. I will be the creator of something that will go in to space, and beyond this world. If that's not worth moving across the country, I don't know what is.”

“Smart answer.” Nigel said. Then lower, “If it doesn't rock your world, it isn't fucking worth it.”

“Not literally rock the world.” Adam said, “But, yes, the world will be changed – space at least – because of me.”

Nigel muttered a chuckle.

“Sometimes you don't have a fucking choice.”

Adam frowned at the note of anger in Nigel's voice.

“You are leaving Romania because you don't have a choice.” He concluded with a grim nod.

Nigel cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Well, you have it all figured out. Maybe you're more than just book smart, kid.”

“No, I just ...”

“If I go back to Romania, I'm dead.” Nigel interrupted with a grim smile, “So, yeah, you could say I don't have a choice.”

“Is someone after you?”

“Everybody in the fucking world it feels like sometimes.”

“I think I told you already, but I'm not good at reading people.” Adam said, “Are you sure you're not kidding?”

“Kid,” Nigel said, giving him a weary glance, “I wish I was.”

His gaze shifted to the screen displayed the destination and time.

“Would you fucking look at that. We've just been delayed another hour.”

Adam checked the screen to affirm Nigel's remark. He let out a sigh, and wiggled in his chair. The vinyl seats and metal arm rests provided little comfort for long periods of sitting; his lower back was already getting sore from the poor support.

“You've never flown before?” Nigel asked.

Adam shook his head.

“I fucking hate flying.” Nigel said, “Unfortunately, I've spent the better part of the past ten years flying all over God's green fucking earth for business.”

“That must have been terrible.”

“That's the only nice thing to come out of this whole clusterfuck. After today, I may never have to fly again.”

“I hope after today that I don't have to fly again either.”

“It's some sick fucking cosmic joke.” Nigel said, “I've been through hundreds of routine, boring flights, but on the day I just want to get to my fucking destination without any trouble ...” He motioned to the window, where the storm was building up it's fury just beyond.

“I must have terrible luck.” Adam said, “I've never flown before, and on the one day I have to get on an airplane ...” He mimicked Nigel's frustrated wave at the window.

Nigel cracked a smile.

“Maybe the universe just hates us both.”

“That's astronomically impossible.”

“What about, um … you know, fucking astrology.” Nigel said, “The zodiac and shit.”

“That's not astronomy.” Adam said, his lips curling in disgust, “That's not even science.”

“You're offended?”

“As an _astronomer_ I am. Astrology is made up.”

“You're probably right.” Nigel said, “I've read some of those horoscopes in the newspaper, you know? It sounds like a bunch of bullshit made up to convince insecure people that their lives are going in a good direction.”

“Well, that's a mean way of saying it.”

“But the goddamn truth.”

Adam shrugged, but gave a conceding nod.

Inside his trouser pocket, Nigel's phone began to buzz. He pulled it out of his pocket, and noted the caller ID with a dark scowl.

“I have to take this.” He said.

Adam shoved his hand in his own pocket to toy with the squish ball as Nigel rose from his chair and paced away from the seating area with a the phone to his ear.

Now that the casual lull of conversation between he and Nigel was paused, he could sense his anxiety creeping back into his chest. He could strike up a conversation with anyone given the right topic, but Dad had always been there to remind him not to speak with strangers.

Adam would be speaking with a lot of strangers from now on since he was moving to a place he'd never been, but Adam could tell the difference between talking to grocery store employees or new co-workers and talking to someone who was dangerous. With all of Nigel's talk about being shot and being hunted, Adam knew he probably was not someone safe to associate with.

 _Watch out for people who will take advantage of you._ Harlan had reminded him in the car ride to the air port, _There's a lot of people out there who want to do just that._

Adam's frown deepened as he watched Nigel pace the aisle in front of the seating area. There was something so magnetic about him. Hair shot with silver, daring eyes, roguish and curving lips; he looked like one of the bad boys in the movies that innocent girls always fall for. He rested comfortable and confident in his own body in a way Adam knew he never would be.

Adam thought about getting up and leaving his chair, but quickly discarded the idea. He would have no where to go that would feel as safe as the waiting area.

 _I'll never see him after today._ Adam thought.

 _We just met, darling. You should stay._ Nigel's voice encouraged him. _Stay._

 


	2. Synchronous Souls

Nigel grudgingly took the phone call from his second, Ciprian. It was just a check-in. Apparently, Nigel needed a fucking babysitter now that he'd been shot in the head.

After a few terse replies, Nigel hung up the phone without so much as a good-bye, and shoved the cellphone in his pocket. Scraping his hair back from his forehead, he drew in a deep breath.

He'd always been a short fucking fuse as long as he could remember. Couldn't control his own anger for shit, even if he realized his own short-comings. Today was not the day to lose his cool. Today was for laying low, being innocuous, and getting to Los Angeles in one piece.

Nigel's harried gaze circled around the sitting area of Gate 23B, and rested on the odd young man named Adam.

Definitely something up with him.

He was rocking gently in his seat, lips moving silently, one hand thrust into his pocket and squeezing into a fist. Well, if he had problems with his head, that would make two of them, Nigel thought ruefully.

He made a split second decision for Adam's frayed nerves, and walked up to the desk to speak to one of the airline employees.

“Hello, miss?”

“Yes?” She said, barely looking up from her computer.

“Is there an ETA when we'll be able to take off? I can see you've already changed the delay three times.”

“It's unpredictable weather, sir.” She said, at last looking up from her screen, “It could be another hour, or another five hours at this rate.”

“So you expect us to sit here for five hours, waiting?”

“Sir, if it appears that the delay will go over into tomorrow, the airline will put everyone in a hotel for the night.”

“But until then, it's the waiting area?”

“Yes, sir. I'm afraid there's nothing else we can do.”

Nigel glanced at the cramped sitting area, and the disproportionate ratio of chairs to passengers. He was lucky to have clinched a seat before the waiting area filled up.

“Well, fuck this.” He muttered.

Without giving the lady a second glance, he strode back to the seat next to Adam.

“Looks like it could be awhile.” He remarked.

“Uh, what?” Adam said.

His head popped up, eyes wide and disoriented, as if he couldn't remember where he was at.

“I spoke to the lady behind the desk.” Nigel said, “It could be another five fucking hours, she said.”

“Here?” Adam asked.

“Unfortunately, yes. If the flight is delayed till tomorrow, they'll put us in a hotel, but until then, we have to stay here.”

Adam let out a sigh, and bit back a swell of fear. Nigel frowned as he noted the flush of color at his throat, and the sheen of emotion rapidly building against his lashes. His hand curled into a fist around the crumpled papers in his lap.

“What's wrong?” Nigel asked.

“It's just, um ...” Adam choked out.

He uncurled his fist, and thrust the papers in front of Nigel's face.

Nigel squinted as he read the words written in neat print underneath the copy of Adam's boarding pass.

_Breakfast._

_Finish packing._

_Drive to airport._

_Check-in._

_Security._

_Board plane._

_Lay-over in Dallas-Forth Worth, Texas airport._

_Board plane._

_Land in Los Angeles._

_Take taxi to apartment._

“My plan is all messed up.” Adam said, biting at his lower lip, “Routine is good for me; confusion is bad.” He leaned forward, and hid his face in his hands, muttering, “Bad, bad, bad.”

“Hey, it's okay, sweetheart.” Nigel said. He put a careful hand on Adam's shoulder, wondering if he should touch the other man at all. Adam didn't seem opposed to Nigel's hand on his shoulder, so Nigel gave it a squeeze.

“It's just a delay.” Nigel said, “If they ever fucking decide how long the flight will be delayed, they will tell us what to do next.”

“I should call Harlan.” Adam whined into his hands.

“Who's that?”

“My friend.”

“Yeah, you should do that.”

“But I just called …”

“If he's your friend, I'm sure he won't care.”

Adam sniffed, and lifted his head. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he clicked into his contacts with trembling hands.

Nigel watched the slender, shivering young man with mounting curiosity as the phone rang. Nigel had never seen so many strange tics in one person, let alone someone so … alluring. With his soft, brown curls, cerulean blue eyes, porcelain skin, and baby cheeks, the young man could have been one of those fem-boys from the porn videos his high school buddy Andrei had always liked. Nigel had always called Andrei a sicko for being interested in that kind of thing; Andrei had called him a liar when the two of them got drunk and hooked up.

Nigel frowned as the thought of Adam in pink, lacy underwear sent a warm thrill of desire through his belly. Strange because he hadn't thought of Adam sexually before this moment. Regrettable because Adam was sitting next to him crying, and Nigel was getting turned on by dirty fantasies.

Nigel muttered a curse.

Adam glanced up from his phone call, watery blue eyes narrowing at the sound of Nigel's coarse, Romanian swearing. A delicate tear clung to the corner of his eye. Nigel thought about reaching out to dab it away, but Adam's head swung back toward his lap as he listened to the person on the other end of the line.

Adam spoke in quiet, mechanical tones for a few moments longer before hanging up.

“Did your friend tell you it's all gonna work out?”

“Yeah.” Adam whispered.

He brought his sleeve across his face, wiping away the lingering tears.

“Hey, look,” Nigel said, motioning to the crumpled papers, “Why don't you just re-write your list?”

“Re-write it?”

“Yeah, get rid of that one since it's useless now, and write down what's going to happen now that the flight is delayed.”

“But we don't know what will happen.”

“Just write down that it's delayed, and that you will arrive in Los Angeles later than you thought.”

Adam considered Nigel's suggestion, and broke into a smile.

“Okay.”

He unzipped his carry-on bag, and rummaged through the contents until his came up with a pen.

Nigel noticed the numerous strange objects in the bottom of the bag, most of them appearing to be some sort of toys. He had the sudden, intense desire to demand from Adam what the hell was going on with him. Nigel was curious as hell; and paranoid too. When someone he interacted with was strange, or gave him an odd feeling, he was hell-bent to find out what was going on.

But he didn't want to beat the answer out of Adam like he usually did. He was just burning right down to his bones to figure out the strange, alluring creature next to him.

Adam scratched a large X over the original list, and flipped the paper over to begin anew. He began writing in straight, uniform lines. Nigel watched the pen craft each letter under Adam's diligent direction, silently annoyed by how clean and neat his writing was, and how long it took Adam to finish writing just one word.

“You could beat a keyboard, writing that fucking neat.” Nigel remarked.

Adam's focus was trained solely on the piece of paper; he didn't react in the least to Nigel's comment – in fact, it seemed as if he hadn't heard it at all.

Ten minutes passed before Adam finished writing. When he was done, he smoothed the paper out, and held it out triumphantly for Nigel to read.

The list was exactly the same until _lay-over in Dallas-Fort Worth airport._ The next line read _delay in Dallas, indefinite._

“Looks good.” Nigel said, “Now all you have to do is scratch out the indefinite part and finish the list once we know what's going on with the delay.”

Adam smiled, and tucked the paper into his bag.

“You know, when you first sat down here, I thought you were going to be a jerk.” He said, abruptly.

“I, uh …” Nigel said, scratching the back of his neck, “Thank you?”

“It's okay, though.” Adam said, waving a hand, “You're not a jerk. I'm actually glad that you sat down here, because I wouldn't have thought of re-writing the list. I feel better now.”

“Well, at least one of us has peace of mind about the future.”

“Nobody can really have that.” Adam said, “The future is always changing.”

“How do you know it's not set in stone?”

“Science suggests that everything happens at random, even the universe. I mean, one particle of matter exploded and _boom._ Here we are. So what can be so ordered about the universe?”

“If you think that, why's it so hard for you to accept a change in plans?”

Adam's face fell, and he lowered his head.

“I just … I try really hard.” He murmured, “But, I … I can't help it.”

Nigel cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the look of suppressed sadness on Adam's face.

“Sorry, darling.” He muttered.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Adam asked, without looking up.

His hands gripped his knees, holding his body in a rigid, curved position. His eyes were trained on the fabric of his trousers, as if they held the answers he was looking for.

“No reason. It's just what I happen to call people I like.” Nigel said.

“Like?”

Adam's head slowly lifted, his wide blue eyes rising and swelling to swallow Nigel whole. It was like the fucking ocean rushing toward the beach, and Nigel was the only one brave enough to plant his feet in the sand. Too fucking bad, because he was getting sucked away by the tide anyway.

“Yeah, I mean … Like I fucking said, you're not an ass like most of the people I have to deal with.”

“Nobody really likes me.” Adam whispered, bewildered, “I mean, not genuinely. They just have to deal with me.”

“Well, that can't fucking be true.”

“It …” Adam lifted his chin, eyes going defiant, “It _fucking_ is.”

Nigel snorted out a laugh, too amused by the word 'fucking' coming out of Adam's mouth to hold back.

“What?” Adam demanded, his eyes sparking.

“I did not fucking expect you to swear at me.” Nigel said, biting back a smile, “You don't seem like the type.”

“Swearing is crude.” Adam said, “But you like to do it, and you respond to it.”

“I fucking responded all right.” Nigel said, huffing a chuckle.

Adam offered a smile that faded too quickly.

“But it is true.” He added, “Dad loved me, of course. And I know Harlan cares. But people like Beth don't have the patience to deal with me. I know I can be annoying and repetitive at times, but I like for people to like me.”

“I'm not the most benevolent person I know.” Nigel said, “And you seem all right to me, kid.”

“If you really knew me, you probably wouldn't say that. Most NT's can't even understand what my life is like, much less adjust their lives to go with mine.”

“NT?”

“Neurotypical.”

There was a beat of silence as Adam continued to stare at his lap.

“All right, well are you going to make me fucking Google it?” Nigel prodded, “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means normal.” Adam said, casting a sharp glance at him, “That's what it means to NT's. To me, it means unreachable.”

“I'm sorry, but I don't have a fucking clue what you mean, kid.”

“I have Asperger's Syndrome.”

Nigel frowned at the admission.

“It means I have trouble reading and interacting with people. I'm smart and focused, but I have bad social skills. Like asking you about your head before I knew your name.”

“Social skills are overrated.” Nigel said, “Me, I just use a fucking gun, or my fist to get my point across. Talk is cheap, and most of the time, people don't have one fucking useful thing to say.”

Adam's eyes widened.

“I mean, fuck- … We're talking right now, but ...”

Nigel trailed off as Adam continued to gape at him.

“I don't fucking mind talking to you because you actually have something sensible to say.” Nigel added, waving a forceful hand with the hope of getting his point across.

“So, um ...” Adam said, his brow furrowing, “You don't give a … “a fuck” that I have Asperger's?”

“I don't fucking know what that means beyond what you just told me.” Nigel said, “But if bad social skills are all that's up with you, I don't think you're all that bad."

Adam swallowed hard. "It's not that simple."

“I fucking know the difference between okay and not okay.”

Nigel scraped a hand through his hair. Adam was staring like a lost little lamb, too soft and gentle for this world of wolves.

Nigel thought he shouldn't even be talking to someone with a mental deficiency, especially one that seemed as angelic as Adam. Interacting with someone not entirely responsible for their actions in regards to a stranger was not good news for Nigel. If someone somehow discovered Adam's brief connection to him, they could snap the poor young man like a twig. One little twist of his delicate wrist, and he would be crying and spilling every word Nigel had said to him.

Not that anyone would discover their brief connection and come looking for Adam. Chances were, Nigel would already be long gone to his new apartment in the city and far away from Adam before anyone tracked his path to the U.S. By then, Nigel would be alone to fend for himself.

Clearing his throat, Nigel cast a despising glare at the screen mounted across the room.

“Fuck.” He muttered.

He cranked around in his chair to regard the storm outside the airport. Charred clouds sagged and sped low across the sky, sweeping rainfall and destructive winds behind them. Rain raged against the windowpanes, tossed to and fro by the wind. Beyond the glass and the landing strip, distant trees surged underneath the gusts.

“From bad to fucking worse.”

“Now we are delayed for three hours.” Adam said after checking the screen.

“Are you hungry?” Nigel asked.

“Why?” Adam asked.

“They have shops in here, places to eat.” Nigel said, “It'll be on me.”

Adam blinked, as if not processing Nigel's suggestion.

“We're gonna be stuck here for at least another two hours. We might as well eat something.” Nigel said.

“Oh, um … okay. I guess that's okay.”

“Here, bring your stuff.” Nigel said, “I wouldn't want it to get stolen.”

Adam swung his bags over his shoulder, and rose from his chair. Nigel followed him out of Gate 23B.

Nigel took the lead, and strode down the main thoroughfare toward the small restaurants situated against the left wall.

Adam scurried after him, eyes bouncing off of the various shops and people who passed them by. He clutched his bags against his side as if his life depended on their contents.

“What do you want? Pizza, subs?”

“That's fine. Nothing foreign.” Adam said, “I don't like spicy foods.”

“Wouldn't last long where I come from.” Nigel remarked with a smile.

“Macaroni and cheese is my favorite.” Adam said, “And chicken. Its the only meal I know how to make.”

Nigel led them into the queue at the pizza parlor. All of the flight delays had grown the lines to extensive numbers, but Nigel and Adam arrived at the parlor ahead of another big crowd.

While they waited in line, Nigel skimmed the menu.

American fast food was poor quality and tasteless in comparison to traditional Romanian dishes. Nigel had always valued a good meal, but he would have to get used to American food. It was all he would be eating from now on.

Nigel decided on the meat lover's pizza, and asked Adam what he wanted.

“Cheese is fine.”

“Just cheese?”

“There's double cheese.” Adam said, pointing to the menu, “It's not just cheese.”

“If you insist, darling.”

The line in front of them moved down, and Nigel stepped up to the counter to order. The young lady in an employees uniform tapped their order into the computer, and blandly told them it would be up in a minute.

Nigel pulled out his wallet, and slid a fifty dollar bill across the counter.

Adam's eyes widened at the thickness of Nigel's wallet.

“My dad always said you shouldn't carry that much money.” Adam whispered.

“If I get robbed, I lose maybe five-hundred dollars.” Nigel said, “That's opposed to losing my entire bank account if I carried a credit card.”

Adam considered the explanation, and nodded.

“That's surprisingly smart.”

“I'm smarter than I look.”

“I don't know. You look pretty smart to me.”

“Do I?” Nigel asked, chuckling, “And what part of me looks smart?”

Adam regarded him with narrowed eyes, before reaching out to touch Nigel's cheekbone.

Nigel cringed as Adam's fingertip landed against his cheek, but relaxed as Adam smiled.

“Your eyes.” He said, “They look angry at first. But then I can see you've been through a lot.”

“Maybe you know that because I told you how many times I've been shot.”

“Maybe you're right.”

The pizza parlor employee pushed a tray across the counter holding paper plates with two slices of greasy pizza on each.

Nigel took the tray, and led them to one of the high-top tables.

As they sat down, Nigel gazed at Adam curiously.

“So, eh … What else do you infer from how I look?” He asked.

Adam held his piece of pizza aloft on his fingertips, and wrapped his mouth around the pointed end. He held up his finger as he bit off a large piece, and chewed.

Nigel gave a tilted smile.

Adam chewed adamantly for a few moments, before wiping his mouth with a napkin and waving his finger.

“I'm not good at this.” He said, “I can tell when someone's angry, but I can't tell you why. I can see if someone's crying, but I usually can't figure out if they're sad or injured. People cry for a lot of different reasons.”

“I haven't cried in front of you.”

“And you probably won't. You seem like a tough guy.”

“Sure.” Nigel said, with a shrug, “Fucking love, though. It changes everything.”

Adam set his pizza down, and leaned forward, intrigued.

“You're in love?”

“Used to be.”

“Oh.” Adam said, plopping back against his chair, “That doesn't sound good.”

“She saved my life.” Nigel said, “But it turned out we didn't have a fucking lot in common besides that fact.”

Adam's frown deepened.

“This is a sad fucking story. You sure you wanna hear it?” Nigel asked.

Adam nodded. “Yes. If you want to tell it.”

“I got stabbed.” Nigel said. “That's how all trouble fucking starts. So, I'm lying up in my apartment, fucking bleeding to death, when I hear the most beautiful music ever. There she is down there playing her cello on the street for money. I listened to her play every day until I got better. Then, I don't fucking know – maybe all the Percocet went to my brain. Maybe I was fucking delirious from bleeding and pain. I thought, 'fuck me, I'm in love with this girl.'”

“Did you ask her out?” Adam asked.

“Fuck no. I took her home and fucked her brains out, that's what I did.”

Adam's eyes widened.

“I'm past the age of dating and courtship.” Nigel said, “Sex is what we all crave, so why not cut past all the bullshit? She didn't argue, anyway.”

“So, um, what happened?” Adam asked, “You said this was going to be sad.”

“So, here we are, in love up to our fucking ears.” Nigel said, “I'm doing my thing, she's doing hers. I'm pushing the powder, and she's watching me. She was a fucking angel, you know. She didn't do things like that. Her dad taught music at the orchestra. The fuck did she know about the trade?”

“You deal drugs?” Adam asked, his voice dipping into a shocked whisper.

“Used to.” Nigel said, “I won't be dealing much of anything now that I'm a million miles away from my business base.”

Adam frowned.

“Does that change your mind about me, angel?” Nigel asked, leaning forward, “Because you best start fucking running right now if it does.”

Adam stared at him with huge, blue eyes, and wavering lips. But his chin was locked, defiant.

“I'm starting over.” He whispered, “I'm going off on my own, like I never have before. And I'm not scared.”

Nigel gave a gruff chuckle.

“You're sweet.”

“So, tell me the rest of the story about your cello player.”

“Like I said, she was angel, but she wasn't a saint.” Nigel said, “She could point and shoot a gun better than half the men I know. And she thought better than half of them too. She got that from her father, because her father figured out a way to get rid of me. Well, he up and died on a plane coming home, and that was my chance. I went back to get my girl.”

“But it didn't work?”

Nigel sighed, and scraped a hand through his hair. Fucking wondering why he'd volunteered to tell this story. It hurt worse hearing it out loud. Shit, it sounded more pathetic hearing it out loud.

“She'd hooked up with someone else.” Nigel said, “Fuck if I know if it was a fling or not. Didn't matter to me. I was angry, reckless.”

“That's how you got shot?” Adam concluded.

“That's what fucking happens when you got the whole country after you, and you dangle a guy over the fucking river by his leg.”

“Who shot you?”

“Cop. A young kid that was trigger happy. Lucky for me, his aim was for shit.”

“And you made a daring escape.” Adam said, “To Los Angeles, and beyond.”

“The city of angels.” Nigel said, spreading his hands, “As if I haven't seen enough fucking angels to last me a lifetime.”

“Seen them where?”

Nigel let out an abrupt laugh, and shook his head.

“Oh, oh.” Adam said, “You don't mean literally.”

“Of course not.”

Adam hummed a response as he chomped down on his pizza.

Nigel rubbed a hand over his eyes, and dug in his pocket for his medicine.

His head was starting to pound again, and the way Adam looked at him with those bright baby blues wasn't doing much for his concentration.

Maybe he did mean literally, because Adam was about as angelic as a human being could get. If only Nigel could stop himself from ruining another good thing, the delayed flight might work out to his advantage.

  


~

  


After they finished eating their pizza, Nigel and Adam left the parlor, and walked down the main thoroughfare. After sitting on an airplane for hours, neither of them were interested in sitting in the waiting area until their flight was no longer delayed.

Nigel paused in front of one of the large windows, and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Of all the days to fly into Dallas.” He muttered.

Adam regarded the storm outside with an anxious shudder. The possibility of a tornado sweeping through the area still burned in the back of his mind. The airport was structurally sound and probably one of the safest places to be in a tornado, but it didn't put Adam's mind at ease.

“It's summer in Los Angeles.” Nigel added, “A bit of fucking sunshine would be nice right now.”

“Peak tornado season is March through June.” Adam said, “Technically, it's summer here too.”

Nigel grunted a reply, and kept walking. As they approached one of the souvenir shops, he waved a hand.

“Here we go.”

Before Adam could protest, Nigel caught him by the arm and veered them into the shop. Racks of keychains, sunglasses, lanyards, backpacks, and assorted other trinkets in bright and varied colors all caught Adam's eye. One entire wall of the shop was filled with displays of t-shirts and hoodies, all of them boasting some phrase about Texas, or the iconic outline of the state.

Adam walked along the wall, dragging his fingertips across the various fabrics and colors. He paused his his hand around the hem of one hoodie. The interior was lined with soft, fuzzy material, a texture that he thoroughly enjoyed.

“You like it?” Nigel asked.

Adam looked up to see Nigel hovering at his shoulder, jagged canines peeking out from behind his crooked smile.

The hoodie was hot pink, and read DALLAS in bold, white print across the front.

Adam snorted.

“It's pink, Nigel.”

“I'm not color blind.”

Adam frowned, and rubbed his fingers harder against the downy lining of the hoodie.

“If you want it, I'll buy it for you.” Nigel said.

“Pink is for girls.”

Nigel grabbed the sleeve of the hoodie, and brought it up next to Adam's flushed cheek.

“I think it looks good on you.” He murmured.

Adam blushed harder, and ducked away. He marched along the wall, hands curling and uncurling at his sides.

Nigel tagged along behind him, uttering a low chuckle that made Adam's stomach erupt with butterflies.

“Come on, Adam, pick something.” He said.

Adam came to a stop at the end of the hoodie display, and crossed his arms.

“I can't let you do that, Nigel.”

Nigel's playful smile faded, replaced by a frown.

“Why not?”

“I'm starting over, like I told you.” Adam said, “Dad always took care of me until last year. He died. Now I have to learn how to be on my own.”

“Looks like you're doing just fine to me.” Nigel said.

“You helped me with my list. You bought me food. Now you want to buy me clothes, too.” Adam said, “I don't need you to take care of me.”

“I'm no caretaker.” Nigel said, “I'm just trying to be fucking generous since I like you, Adam.”

“I don't need a caretaker either.” Adam snapped, “I'm not that stupid. Maybe I'm a little slow, but I don't need a caretaker.”

He shoved past Nigel, knocking his shoulder against a display of necklaces in his haste.

“Hey, that's not what I meant.” Nigel hissed.

He rushed to catch up with Adam, waving off the warning from the shop employee.

Adam marched out of the shop, and leaned against the wall with his hands curled into fists at his sides. He reminded himself to breathe. That's all there was to it – inhale, exhale.

“That's not what I fucking meant.”

Adam opened his eyes to see Nigel standing in front of him, a worried expression lining his face.

“It's what you said.”

“It was a slip of tongue.” Nigel said, “I didn't mean that you actually need a nurse. That's silly; obviously you're a smart, capable person who can live on your own.”

Adam let out a breath, and lowered his gaze to the ground.

Dad had always reminded him not to take everything people said literally. To be patient, and try to understand. To figure out what people really meant, even if it was hard.

“Then why do you want to buy me stuff?” Adam asked.

“Shit, I don't know.” Nigel said, throwing up his hands, “Because we're fucking stuck here in this godforsaken place for an indefinite amount of time, and I'm just trying to stave off boredom and this fucking headache with any kind of distraction.”

“I'm sorry you have a headache.”

Nigel let out a coarse laugh.

“Me too, kid.”

“That's the only reason?”

“Fuck, I need a cigarette.” Nigel muttered.

He turned his back to Adam, and scraped both hands through his hair. Adam bit his lower lip as the sleeves of his shirt pulled taut across his chest and shoulders. The hem of the shirt rose, giving him the tiniest glimpse of belly and the elastic band of his boxers. They were dark blue, with small white polka dots.

Adam frowned as his mind absorbed these small details and immediately extrapolated on them.

“I've got to get a cigarette.” Nigel said, “Do you want to come outside with me?”

“It's raining.”

“Well let me buy you a fucking hoodie, and then you won't get wet.”

Adam clenched his jaw. It was difficult to resist Nigel's offer. The hoodies were fifty dollars a piece, and Adam didn't have the money to spend on overpriced souvenir items in the airport.

“Fine.” He said.

Nigel pulled out his wallet, and handed Adam a fifty and a ten.

“Go pick one out.”

Adam took the bills, and went back into the shop. The employee who had chided them for being loud watched him with a dubious gaze as he walked back to the hoodie display.

Adam looked over all the hoodies, and felt inside each of them for the soft lining. Several of them had the lining, but Adam's gaze flitted back to the pink one. He couldn't jar the image from his brain of Nigel saying he looked good in the color.

Adam huffed out a sigh.

He snatched the pink hoodie from the display, and marched back to the register. Without saying a word, he put the hoodie and the bills on the counter.

The employee glanced at him with unveiled amusement as he rang out the pink hoodie, and put the bills in the till. He bagged the hoodie, gave Adam the change, and offered a muttered salutation.

Snatching the bag, Adam escaped the shop.

He offered the change to Nigel, but Nigel waved a hand.

“Keep it. Let's see what you picked out.”

“Don't laugh.” Adam said.

Nigel frowned curiously. He held up a hand and crossed his fingers. 

“I swear.”

Adam opened the bag, and withdrew the pink hoodie.

Nigel's mouth stretched in a grin as Adam held it up against his chest.

“I said don't laugh.” Adam said.

“I'm not laughing. I think it looks great on you. Honest to God I do.”

“Its more the material that I like than the color, just so you know.” Adam said. He turned one of the sleeves inside out to show Nigel the fleece lining, “The texture is nice. See?”

Nigel rubbed his fingers across the fleece, and nodded.

“All right. Put it on. I've got to get a cigarette.”

Adam pulled the hoodie on over his head, and tugged it down around his waist. He had purposefully bought a size too big to allow the hoodie to wrap in generous folds over his shoulders and down around his hands. He was able to pull his hands inside the sleeves and rub his fingertips across the fleece without having to bend his elbow or wrist.

Nigel led the way down the airport until he found a door that led just outside. In front of the airport, a few people struggled to pull their luggage indoors and out of the storm, while other were fighting traffic to get home.

Nigel and Adam stood underneath one of the car ports, but the gust of wind and rain surged around them with the electric smell of lightning in the air.

Nigel pulled a cigarette from his pack, and lit up with a few eager puffs.

Adam watched with surreptitious fascination as Nigel took a long drag of the cigarette, and tilted his head back to let the stream from his mouth and nose.

Nigel hummed as he took another drag.

“Nothing like a cigarette.” He said, glancing at Adam.

Adam frowned. He thought smoking was gross, but somehow, Nigel made it look attractive. With his lips wrapped around the cigarette, and his jaw taut as he took a long drag, Adam couldn't look away. The way his throat worked up and down, swallowing and exhaling, clenching and grunting satisfaction, and spilling back out a billow of smoke was a hypnotic rhythm that kept Adam's gaze pinned to him.

“You're pretty smart, so you probably know all the bad side affects of smoking.” Nigel remarked.

“Lung cancer is the most preventable form of cancer, but it's also the most prevalent.” Adam supplied, “Its the leading cause of cancer death in the United States with about 480,000 deaths per year.”

“I always figured something else would kill me sooner.” Nigel said, “But I guess not even a bullet to the head can put me down. That would be fucking ironic, wouldn't it? If cancer killed me before a bullet did?”

“Don't say that.”

“Why not?”

“Cancer is horrible. It's a slow, painful death in comparison to the quickness of being shot.” Adam said, “And I don't like the thought of you having it.”

“Why, you care about me and my future now, do you, love?”

Adam lifted his chin as Nigel cast him a burning, inquisitive look.

“You keep calling me these intimate nicknames like 'love'.” Adam said, “I thought that you wanted me to care.”

“If I don't call someone 'love' it's because I don't like them.” Nigel said, “Simple as that. But I fucking like you, Adam, so … there you have it.”

“So, after today we're never going to see each other again, and you won't care what happens to me.” Adam said, “But I will have this hoodie, and I'll remember. I don't really forget things.”

Nigel relaxed posture stiffened. He walked closer to the edge of the overhang, and flicked the ashes of his cigarette out into the damp asphalt.

“So, eh ...” He glanced over his shoulder at Adam, and cleared his throat, “Come over here and tell me about why you're moving all the way from Manhattan to Los Angeles.”

“You're confusing me.” Adam said.

“I told you about my truly horrendous break-up; tell me about yours. You mentioned someone named Beth earlier?”

“Yeah, I dated her.” Adam said, “We had sex.”

“I should fucking hope so.”

“I don't have a lot of sex.” Adam said, “It's hard for me.”

“Because of Asperger's?”

“Yeah. I don't connect well with people.”

“We're connecting.”

“I don't know why. We're nothing alike. We don't have similar interests to discuss.”

“Maybe the universe doesn't hate us. Maybe it let this happen.”

“There's this theory called synchronicity. It means there are a simultaneous occurrence of events that appear to be significantly related, but have no discernible casual connection. It's meaningful coincidence.”

“Sounds like a lot of psychobabble to me.”

“It means that events can be connected by meaning, not just causality.” Adam said, “Causality means that nothing can happen without something causing it – cause and effect. But Carl Jung, a revolutionary psychiatrist, suggested that events caused by meaning don't need an explanation in terms of causality.”

Nigel gazed at him in confusion.

“Um, for example, you're driving into a parking lot that you normally know is difficult to find parking in, but as soon as you arrive, another car pulls out and leaves an open space for you.” Adam said, “Or you walk into a bookstore, not knowing what to buy, when a book you realize you need falls from the shelf in front of you.”

“I'm not following what that has to do with today.”

Adam huffed out a sigh of frustration, and screwed his eyes shut in concentration. It was difficult for him to water down scientific and psychological reasoning that he could understand without being taught.

“It means that today is meaningful coincidence.” He said, “The causality of you flying to Los Angeles was that you got shot in Romania, and the causality of me flying to Los Angeles was that I accepted the job at the observatory. But, there's not really a discernible explanation in terms of causality for why the two of us met at this airport. Both of us flying to Los Angeles are parallel events, just like a hundred other people are flying with us on the airplane to Los Angeles. We could have spoken to anyone else on this flight, but instead, we spoke to each other. There's no cause for the affect of us having this conversation right now other than coincidence. It just happened to us. _For us_ , if the theory of synchronicity is to be believed.”

“Coincidence.” Nigel said, “I think I understand what you're getting at.”

“It has significance to us, but not to the rest of the universe.” Adam said, “The only reason it has meaning at all is because of what we experience in this moment with each other, and what we interpret as significant from our shared experience.”

“What did you say this was called?”

“Synchronicity.”

“Never heard of it before. But you're one smart kid, Adam, gotta say that for you. It makes a lot of sense.” He let out a gruff chuckle, and shook his head, “If this Carl Jung person is right, then it seems like my life is one big train of synchronicity. It only matters to me, and it makes no discernible sense.”

“Yes, technically you could argue that synchronicity played a part in you meeting your ex-girlfriend.” Adam said, “The causality of you being in the apartment was that you were stabbed, but it was coincidence that she should be down on the street playing her cello at that very moment playing a song that you think saved your life.”

“Then maybe I'm just repeating history.” Nigel said, “Getting injured, and then meeting a beautiful person who I think can save my life.”

All thought of psychiatry and synchronicity left Adam's brain. The back of his neck drew stiff, and the flutter of butterfly wings exploded with a fresh tremble in his belly. He stared at Nigel for a few long moments of shock, and Nigel gazed back at him with a sort of sad but coquettish smile on his lips.

Adam cleared his throat, and whispered, “Actually that phrase, repeating history, could also be attributed to synchronicity, in that coincidentally, each time you are injured you meet someone shortly thereafter who you think could save your life.”

“So far it's only happened twice.” Nigel said.

His gaze broke from Adam's, and focused on the sheets of rain falling from the sky and dancing across the parking lot. He took a drag of his cigarette, and blew out smoke with a forceful puff.

“So, you were telling me about Beth.” He said, at length.

“Oh, yes.” Adam said. He cleared his throat again to push back the clench of exhilaration. “She lived in the apartment above me. We met, and started dating, but it didn't last. I wanted her to come with me to California, but her parents needed her help. She had to stay in Manhattan, so I'm going to Los Angeles by myself.”

“Just like that, eh?”

“Not really. It was hard. I put a lot of work into dating Beth.” Adam said, “I have trouble connecting to people, but I didn't realize how hard it would be until I started dating her."

“She must not have deserved you if she didn't respect all that you put into dating her.”

Adam shrugged. “I'm deciding to view it as a learning experience that was meant to be short-lived.”

“You can put it behind you, just like that? Me, I can't let go of something even if I try.”

“I have to. I mean, for my own sake.” Adam said, “I knew I wouldn't survive if I didn't. I hate to think that I am fragile or breakable, but it hurt me a lot when she dumped me. I can accept that.”

“You sure as hell aren't fragile if you can keep your chin up like that.”

Adam offered Nigel a small smile. “Thanks.”

Nigel took one last drag of his dwindling cigarette before tossing it out into the pouring rain.

“We should get back inside and check on the delay.” He said.

“Okay.”

They walked back into the airport, all the way down past the shops and the restaurants until they reached 23B. Passengers were piled in the chairs and the floor, some people focused on their phones laptops, or a book, while some of them were trying to nap.

The screen still read DELAYED.

Adam checked his watch. It had been two hours since their arrival in Dallas-Fort Worth. One more hour of the delay left, but that could change in an instant.

Nigel and Adam found two open seats next to each other, and sat down between a family of four piled into two chairs, and an over-weight couple on the other side. Adam shifted closer to the armrest separating he and Nigel, uncomfortable with the proximity of strangers. He shook off the the thought that just two hours ago, Nigel had been that stranger, but now he was cuddling up next to the man as if they'd been friends for years.

“This could be a long wait.” Nigel said, “I'm going to put my head back.”

He shifted down lower in the chair, and situated his head against the back rest. Closing his eyes, he folded his arms across his chest.

Adam pulled his phone and earbuds out of his pocket, and connected the two. He tucked the earbuds in place, and opened his iTunes. He had downloaded several astronomy documentaries before leaving home in case of a delay or long wait such as this one.

He started a documentary about the Hubble telescope, and allowed himself to be sucked in to the wide lens shots of space and galaxies and the intriguing mysteries that lay beyond. It was safe and familiar. Even with the unpredictable energy and force of the man dozing next to him, he could lose himself to the warm safety of the stars before his eyes.

  



	3. Bullets, Cigarettes, and Bad Weather

Nigel jarred awake some time later, disoriented and swiping at the saliva spilling from the corner of his mouth. His head bumped up against something warm but hard, sending a wave of pain through his delicate head wound. Grunting, Nigel opened his eyes to see Adam's hands holding his iPhone over his crossed knees. Some show about space was playing.

Nigel sat abruptly upright as he realized his head had been resting against Adam's shoulder. His head spun with the sudden movement, and he lapsed back against the chair, squeezing his eyes shut against the explosion of stars behind his eyelids.

Adam removed one of his earbuds, and turned to Nigel.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine, fine.” Nigel waved him off.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes, and pushed himself upright against the chair.

The airport was quiet except for the low hum of conversation and the announcements over the loud speaker. Outside, the sky remained as leaden and dark as before.

“How long was I out?” Nigel asked.

Adam checked his watch.

“Forty-eight minutes.”

“It felt like three hours.” Nigel said.

He clutched his chin and cranked his neck to the side, eliciting a loud series of pops from between the bones.

Adam cringed.

“What's going on with the delay?” Nigel asked.

“One more hour was added on while you were asleep.” Adam said. “There is a tornado watch now in affect.”

“Shit.” Nigel muttered.

“Yeah.” Adam agreed with wide-eyed concern, “I've never experienced a tornado before. I'm a little nervous.”

“We'll live.” Nigel said, “Bullets and cigarettes can't kill me, so neither should the fucking weather.”

“I've never experienced bullets or cigarettes or bad weather.”

“Don't worry, gorgeous.” Nigel said, flashing Adam's distressed face an easy smile, “I'll protect you.”

Adam blinked, and turned the color of his hoodie.

“What are you watching?” Nigel asked, flicking a finger toward the iPhone screen.

“ _Centered in The Universe_.” Adam said, “It's a documentary about space.”

Without missing a beat, Adam offered the other earbud to Nigel.

Nigel hesitated. Adam gazed at him expectantly, a lopsided smile on his face.

“It's really cool. I promise.” Adam said.

“I don't know anything about astronomy.” Nigel said, “I'm a novice compared to you, starman.”

“Starman?”

“David Bowie.”

“Oh, oh.” Adam said, “There's a starman in the sky ...” He trailed off with a small frown and indistinct humming as he tried to recall the words of the song.

Nigel took the earbud from his fingers, and put it in place. A silky English accent filtered through the speakers, narrating a journey through swirling galaxies and endless stars against the black canvas of the universe. There was something strangely hypnotic about the tilt of the camera, and the honeyed tone of the narrator's voice dragging the audience deeper and deeper into space.

Nigel found himself relaxing as they watched the documentary together, their heads tilted down toward the screen of the iPhone and nearly touching.

Nigel's gaze wandered from the screen to Adam's focused expression. His blue eyes barely blinked as they absorbed the pictures and footage flashing across the screen, and his tongue worked across his lower lip in concentration. At this proximity, his skin looked even softer and paler than first glance. His hair was an uncombed mess of stubborn curls that spilled over his forehead and the focused knit of his brow; Nigel imagined how silky those curls might be, how perfect for lacing his fingers through and gripping.

Nigel angled his body toward Adam, and slid his arm across the back of Adam's chair. He drew in a shallow breath as Adam's gaze flicked from the screen to note the new development. Much to his relief, Adam wasn't bothered by Nigel's arm being behind his back. He turned his gaze back to the screen, and fidgeted one hand within the sleeve of his hoodie.

Ten minutes later, he held the phone out to Nigel.

“My arm is tired.”

Nigel took the phone, and held it upright against Adam's knee.

Sinking back against the chair, Adam bumped his shoulders into Nigel's arm.

Nigel began to withdraw his arm, muttering an apology over the sound coming through the earbuds.

“Why are you moving?” Adam asked.

Nigel paused with his arm halfway behind Adam's shoulders.

“Do you want me to leave it?”

“Go ahead.” Adam said.

Tamping down his surprise and excitement, Nigel slid his arm back into place around Adam's shoulders. Adam wiggled down lower in his chair, and tilted his head back against Nigel's arm. He tucked his chin underneath the collar of the hoodie and pulled his arms into the over-sized sleeves, giving him the look of a sleepy turtle.

Nigel bit back a smile at the comparison.

He held the phone a little closer for Adam's comfort, and focused his eyes on the screen. His thoughts were light years away from the documentary, but somehow he had a feeling it was more important to let Adam think he was interested in the space jargon. It couldn't hurt either. The video footage was aesthetically pleasing; nearly as pretty as the strange young man tucked under his arm.

After the video ended, Adam put his phone and earbuds away.

They had killed about half an hours time watching the video, but the flight was still indefinitely delayed. The people around them were beginning to appear more and more disgruntled as time wore on, but Nigel realized he was less upset about the delay than when he'd first walked off the gangway to see the notification on the screen.

Since meeting Adam, he hadn't thought about Romania or all the problems that faced him ahead in Los Angeles. It was like a tiny bubble trapped in time where, by some strange coincidence, the two of them had collided. Everything was all right here in this little bubble.

Nigel downed another two painkillers to keep the headache at bay.

He couldn't help but think of synchronicity again as the tablets slid down the back of his throat. Injured, hopped up on painkillers, and in the presence of a beautiful human being. Just like with Gabi.

 _Fuck._ Nigel thought.

Adam's head was lolling against his arm and toward his shoulder, bright blue eyes hazy with exhaustion and fluttering shut. He was all but limp as he drifted off toward slumber.

_Fuck._

He was so fucking screwed. It had been less than four hours since he'd landed here in Dallas-Fort Worth, and he was already falling into the trap of desire and need for someone he my never see again after today.

Nigel had fucked just about as many men as he had woman. The thought of falling for another man didn't bother him so much as the fact that he seemed to always pick the worst partners. Not only might he never see Adam after today, but also Adam might not feel the same way towards Nigel. The young man was handicapped after all; Nigel provided safety and stability in a foreign and unstable environment. That ideal could be all Adam was gravitating toward, and nothing more; Adam's assertion that he didn't need a caretaker didn't breach that logic.

Nigel leaned his head back against the wall, and stared down at the top of Adam's curly head and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

 _Fuck me._ He thought, for the third time.

 

~

 

Nigel and Adam were jarred awake by the sound of a woman's voice coming over the loud speaker.

“Ladies and gentlemen of flight number 4639 to Los Angeles, California, may I please have your attention?”

A wave of grumbles and questions rippled across the seating area as everyone began to sit up and turn bleary eyes toward the woman behind the desk.

“It now appears that we are under a tornado warning.” The woman continued, “This means that your flight has now been canceled. The airline has decided it won't be safe for anyone to fly until tomorrow. I'm going to go by seating sections and have everyone in that section come forward one and a time to receive directions and instructions for an overnight hotel and your rescheduled flight tomorrow. If you have any questions, you can direct them to me at this time. I'll be starting with First Class and working my way back, so if I can have everyone flying first class come forward at this time.”

The wave of murmurs rose to a disgruntled tide as the people from first class rose from their seats and dragged their bags over to the desk.

“Fuck, I knew it.” Nigel said.

Adam suppressed a yawn, and pushed himself up from Nigel's shoulder, leaving the space cold in his absence. Nigel massaged the stiffness out of his shoulder, and Adam sat up on the edge of his seat to stretch.

Adam froze.

“What's wrong?” Nigel asked.

“I forgot to call Harlan again.” Adam said, “I was supposed to check in again.”

He yanked his phone out of his pocket, and clicked into his contacts.

He pressed the phone to his ear, and waited impatiently as the line connected and rang.

There was a beat after his face lit up with a smile, before he exclaimed, “Harlan, hi! I'm so sorry I didn't call sooner. I know it's like three hours since I last called.”

Nigel chewed his lower lip. And _he_ had been annoyed about being babysat because of one phonecall.

“Yes, yes, we're fine, but the flight is canceled.” Adam was saying, “They're going to put us up in a hotel and reschedule the flight tomorrow.”

He conversed with Harlan for a few minutes longer before hanging up.

“He asked me how I was holding up.” Adam said. “I didn't tell him about you though. He would probably be too worried.”

“What is he, your dad?”

“No.” Adam said, “He's just a friend.”

“Ah.”

“I don't answer to him.” Adam said, indignantly, “I just don't want him to worry.”

“Well, I should make a phone call.” Nigel said, “Because people answer to me.”

Adam frowned as Nigel rose from his chair, and dialed Ciprian's number.

“Hello?” Ciprian answered.

“It's Nigel. The flight is canceled here in Texas.” Nigel said, “They're rescheduling for tomorrow.”

“That fucking sucks.” Ciprian said.

“Yeah, balls.” Nigel remarked, glancing over his shoulder at Adam.

“Anything we can do from here?”

“Not really. Just keeping everything informed.”

“All right. Well, man, I hope Texas treats you well. I've heard it's not that great.”

“It's different.” Nigel said, “But it could be worse. Okay, I'll talk you later.”

“Bye.”

Nigel hung up, and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He sat back down next to Adam.

“So, you're the boss?” Adam asked.

“Yeah.” Nigel said, “Don't ask me how it happened.”

“You didn't want to be in charge?”

“I wanted to make dough.” Nigel clarified with a wry chuckle, “And I was good at it, so I guess that translated into being in charge.”

“Are you still ...” Adam leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Still 'pushing the powder'?”

“From a distance.” Nigel said, “I actually haven't touched that shit with my own two hands in years. At least not with the intent of selling it.”

“Because you're the boss. You have other people do it for you?”

“That's the safe way to do it.”

“Do you have a lot of money?”

“Some would say so.”

Adam considered Nigel's replies with a furrowed brow and pursed lips.

“Like I told you before, angelface, run if it scares you.” Nigel said.

“That's why I didn't tell Harlan.” Adam said, “But I am not scared.”

“No? Then you're probably stupid.”

“I am not.” Adam said, a frown furling across his brow.

“You don't know me like I know me.” Nigel said, “And I know that someone like you should be scared.”

“How do I know you're not making all of it up?” Adam asked.

“I've got the scars to prove it.” Nigel said, motioning to his head, “And a lot fucking more that you can't see with my clothes on.”

Adam blushed deep red, eyes inadvertently chasing down Nigel's body.

“I'll show them to you later.” Nigel suggested, “But I don't think you have any to show me in return.”

“I have a scar on my knee from when I fell off a swing set as a toddler.” Adam said.

Nigel chuckled. “That's definitely not the same.”

“It's all I have.”

Nigel blew out a sigh, and gave Adam's jutted chin a nudge with his thumb.

“Ah, kid, you should be satisfied it's all you have. You don't want my life; not even a little bit.”

“I'm not a kid.” Adam said, “I am actually twenty-six years old. Why do you keep calling me that?”

“To me, you are a kid.” Nigel said, “You don't like it?”

“It can't be any worse than 'angelface'.” Adam said, his nose crinkling.

“I think angelface is a little more accurate, though.”

Adam blushed again, and rubbed at his flaming cheek with the sleeve of his hoodie.

They had to wait another half an hour before the clerks behind the desk got to Nigel and Adam's seating section. They walked up to the desk together behind a long line of other people.

Nigel instinctively put a hand on Adam's lower back, the same way he used to grab onto Gabi in a crowd of unfamiliar people. He'd had to shove her to the ground more than once to protect her. Though the airport was far from Romania, Nigel didn't trust the distance to separate him from his old life. Close quarters like this one was the perfect location to get stabbed in the kidneys with a syringe of poison.

Adam glanced down at Nigel's hand on his side, but was otherwise unperturbed by Nigel's touch.

Nigel considered pulling his hand back down against his side since Adam was not his girlfriend or his responsibility, but since Adam wasn't bothered by it's presence, he let his palm linger against the soft cotton of the hoodie and the warmth of Adam's body heat.

At the desk, they both had to go through the process of receiving the hotel and transportation information, and new boarding passes for the flight tomorrow. With the papers and boarding passes in hand, they left the desk and followed the woman's instructions to the bus that was waiting outside the doors. The bus would take them to the hotel, and return at an allotted time the next day to bring them back to the airport.

Adam and Nigel climbed onto the bus, and made their way down the narrow aisle to two open seats toward the back. Adam took the window seat, and Nigel planted himself like a sentinel between Adam and the aisle.

Adam pulled out his list, and began writing down the new instructions for himself to follow the next day.

_Stay overnight at hotel._

_Get on bus at 8 a.m._

_Fly to Los Angeles_

_Ride taxi to apartment._

Nigel mentally added _getting laid_ to the list, but he didn't say it aloud. Adam probably wouldn't understand the joke, or even find it funny if he did.

It was no laughing matter anyway. By this point, Nigel was dead serious about getting Adam in bed with him, and it was going to take more than bullets, cigarettes, bad weather, or even the hand of God to deter him.

 

~

 

When the airline said they would be placing the passengers of the canceled flights in a “value” motel, what they really meant was cheap.

Adam's nose curled as he unlocked the door of his room, and stepped inside to see the cramped space, distressed furniture, and patterned bed spread and curtains that were truly a crime against anyone's sense of style and eyesight.

It smelled clean enough, but the sheets had obviously seen thorough use, and everything about the room screamed at Adam to break out nitrile gloves and bleach.

He dropped his carry-on bags on the chair, and silently bemoaned the lack of his suitcase. Since he hadn't thought he would be staying overnight, he had no pajamas, comb, tooth brush or other necessities. He would have to use the rags and travel sized soaps in the shower.

Adam sat down on the edge of the bed, and took his squish ball between his hands. He rolled the ball up and down the length of his palms, watching the color morph with the friction.

“Andromeda, Antila, Apus, Aquarius ...” He whispered into the silence of the room.

It didn't help. The grimy walls of the hotel seemed to close in around him, and even the familiarity of his stim toy and the constellations he knew so well couldn't deter the sense of panic swelling in his brain.

Adam gasped aloud when the sound of a knock on the door pulled him from the internalized chaos of his thoughts.

He bit his lower lip hard. What if it was someone he didn't know? He was in a strange place.

 _People will want to take advantage of you._ Harlan's voice echoed through his head.

The knocking came again, more insistent this time.

“Adam?” A voice drifted through the barrier between them, “It's Nigel.”

Adam let out a breath, and quietly chided himself for being silly. Of course it was Nigel.

He jumped up from the bed, and darted across the room to yank the door open.

Nigel stood in the hallway, holding the complementary tiny bottles of alcohol that he had taken from his own room.

“Can I come in?” He asked.

“Sure.”

Adam stood back, and let Nigel across the threshold. He shut the door firmly behind Nigel, only satisfied when he heard the lock turn and he twisted the deadbolt shut.

Adam twisted his hands in front of him as Nigel hunted around the room, pulling open cabinets and the mini fridge.

“What are you doing?” Adam asked.

“Looking for more of these.” Nigel said, holding up the small bottles he'd brought with him.

“Oh.”

“Ahh.” Nigel announced.

He discovered two more of the complementary bottles, and took all of them to the bed where he flopped down against the headboard.

“You don't want them, do you?” He asked.

“Oh, no. No.” Adam shook his head, “I don't drink alcohol.”

“Didn't think so.”

Nigel broke the seal on one of the bottles, and drank directly from it despite the clean glasses sitting on the table next to the mini fridge.

“Hey, relax. Sit down.” Nigel said, motioning to the empty space on the mattress next to him.

“I can't really relax.” Adam said.

He approached the bed with his arms folded across his waist. He cast a dubious glance at the old bed sheets with their awful pattern.

“I've been in worse hotels.” Nigel said, “Trust me. Way worse. Ones with fucking rats and cockroaches. Those are some nasty motherfuckers, let me tell you.”

“I'm better with routines and familiar places.” Adam said, “Being in a place like this makes me feel all ...” He waved his hands around his head to indicate the jumbled chaos he was feeling. “... all out of whack.”

“Well, the least you can do is sit down.” Nigel said.

Adam sat down on the edge of the bed, and focused on the hem of his sweatshirt. The texture of the fleece lining offered some comfort, and Nigel's presence allowed him to breath a bit easier. The idea of someone attacking him was less likely with Nigel present.

 _Don't worry, gorgeous. I'll protect you._ That's what Nigel had said, and even though they'd known each other for only four hours, Adam was certain Nigel was telling the truth.

“It could be a long night.” Nigel said, “I turned on the TV over in my room to check the news, and it looks like a tornado could pass through.”

“Has there been a sighting?”

“Yep.”

Nigel rose from the bed, and peeked between the blinds over the window. Outside, the storm howled and spewed torrents of rain from the darkening sky.

“The thing about weather like this is that it's fucking unpredictable.” Nigel said, “Of all the things in this world to come up against, it's the one thing you can't plan ahead of.”

“It looks worse than it is, probably.” Adam said, “We would actually need to be more worried if the air was still and calm. That's what it's like in the eye of the storm. With weather like this, we could be on the fringe of the tornado, or even outside of it. The type of weather that creates a tornado can cause rain and heavy winds for miles around.”

“You sure about that?” Nigel asked.

“I'm sure.”

“Well, I guess I can breathe easy about the storm, and you can breathe easy about this shitty motel.”

Adam glanced at the clock. It was nearly ten.

“So, are you going to stay?” Adam asked.

“As long as you don't kick me out, love.”

“No, I like it that you're here.” Adam said, “But we should probably sleep in our own separate beds.”

Nigel's smile cracked open wider.

“Of course, that's not what I was suggesting.” He said, “You move fast there, Adam.”

“I-I wasn't suggesting-...” Adam choked, feeling his face grow hot, “It's just that I … I have a routine, and staying up late isn't part of it so we don't really have much time before I should start preparing for bedtime.”

“When's bedtime?”

“Ten thirty.”

“Really?” Nigel asked, his eyebrow cocking.

“Yes.”

“Adam ...”

Nigel sauntered across the room, and stood over Adam. His eyes sparkled and burned into Adam in a way that Adam couldn't quite understand.

“Adam, darling, the people who have the most fun in this life are the ones who allow themselves some spontaneity every once in awhile.”

“Oh, no.” Adam said, shaking his head, “I'm not good at being spontaneous. It's not that I wouldn't like to, it's just … I really can't.”

“Will it hurt you so much to stay up a bit later than usual?” Nigel asked.

“No, not hurt but-”

Nigel sank down to the mattress, and put his arm around Adam's shoulders.

“What was that thing that you were talking about earlier?” Nigel asked, “The, eh, synchro …”

“Synchronicity.”

“Yeah, the meaningful coincidences, right?”

“Yes.”

“You said we met by chance, but you made it sound like a good thing.” Nigel said, “Shouldn't we take advantage?”

“Of what?”

“Of this.” Nigel said, waving a hand around the room, “Whatever this may be. It's not every day that I get onto an airplane to fly across the world and meet someone interesting and enjoyable.”

“Interesting?” Adam asked, his eyebrows rising, “Are you still talking about me?”

“Yes, sweetheart.” Nigel murmured, a smile tipping his lips.

Adam's heart fluttered in a strange, warm way. He could recall feeling this way before when he first met Beth. Except this time, he could identify the feeling, and he could be smart enough to run away from it.

Adam twisted out from underneath Nigel's arm, and jumped up from the bed to pace. His hands tangled into his hair, tugging in an attempt at concentration.

“What's wrong?” Nigel asked.

“I just … I don't … This is- this isn't good for me to-” Adam stammered.

He grunted in frustration as the words tangling in his brain struggled to articulate in a logical order.

“Whatever do you mean?” Nigel asked.

“You … this ...” Adam whispered, pressing his fingertips against his forehead, “I don't understand why this is happening.”

“Neither do I, but I have to the sense to enjoy it. To seize the moment.” Nigel said.

Adam flinched at the caress of Nigel's hand against his shoulder. He peeked over his shoulder to see Nigel hovering behind him, genuine concern outshining the playful teasing that had previously brightened his gaze.

“I told you about Beth, so you should already know what I mean.” Adam said.

Nigel's brow furrowed, and his mouth opened to a reply that never came.

“Oh, no.” Adam whispered, “Maybe I'm reading this wrong? I just … It's really hard for me to know what people want unless they tell me. I try to follow visual clues, but sometimes I misinterpret, and … I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me.”

“I'm not mad.” Nigel said, “How could I be mad at you?”

“You'd be surprised.” Adam said, “A lot of people get mad at me.”

Nigel chuckled, and put a warm hand on Adam's shoulder.

“I like you, Adam.” He said, “I think you're smart, and funny, and intriguing. Not a lot of people get my attention the way you have. I tend to capitalize on those moments because usually I find someone that's worthwhile and of use to me.”

“Of use?”

“I'm a captain.” Nigel said, “You already know that. I have to differentiate between the people who are of use to me and the people who are wasting my fucking time. This isn't a business transaction, but being able to judge people's personalities and character works out for me in my personal life too. And I'm having one of those moments, Adam.”

“I'm just confused.” Adam whispered, “I'm sorry, you're making my brain hurt.”

“What are you confused about?”

“In business, it is important for you to judge people based on their skills and usefulness, but … Me? What do I have? I know you are not interested in me because of your business.”

“No, I said it works out my personal life too.”

“Right. But … I mean, what do I have that you want?” Adam asked, “How do you know I'm not just wasting your time?”

“I like you as a person; that's all there fucking is to it.”

Adam frowned.

“You don't believe me?”

“I guess I will have to even if I can't see it myself.”

“Yeah, I guess you will.”

Nigel marched back to the bed, and uncapped a second bottle of alcohol. He turned the TV on, and motioned for Adam to come sit next to him. It was as if the conversation had never happened.

Adam hesitated for a moment before going to the bed. He sat Indian style against the pillows, and watched as Nigel clicked through the channels on the TV.

“What are you looking for?” Adam asked.

“Something that isn't TMZ.” Nigel said, “Everything from that channel is horseshit, and of course, its the only channel hotels have.”

“I've never really stayed in a hotel before.”

“I've stayed in one to many.” Nigel said, “I've lived out of more fucking awful hotels like this one than houses.”

“Why?”

“The house or apartment I'm staying at gets compromised or rat-infested. Usually compromised.”

“Compromised?”

“Someone who doesn't like me finds it.” Nigel clarified, “That's how come I've been stabbed or fucking shot in the head.”

“I lived in the same place my whole life, except for when I was really little and I can't remember my old house.” Adam said.

“You should count yourself lucky.” Nigel said, “The transient life is a perilous road to be on. Vermin of all kind always getting after you for some shit or another.”

“Will you be staying in one place now that you are moving to Los Angeles?” Adam asked.

“That's my plan.”

“You don't have enemies in the United States?”

“None that I know of, though I'm sure they're bound to come out of the fucking woodwork the moment I put roots down. That's my fucking luck.”

Nigel glanced up from the TV, and nudged Adam's knee.

“What about you, starman? You think Los Angeles will treat you kindly?”

“I hope so.” Adam said, “This job at the observatory sounds wonderful, but I've been fired from jobs before.”

“I don't see how they could fire you.” Nigel said, “You're probably the smartest person I know, kid.”

“Maybe too smart.”

“I don't know how someone can ever be too smart.”

“I got fired from my last job because I spent too much time on single projects.” Adam said, “It's hard for me to deviate from one topic once I become invested in it.”

“Mm.” Nigel grunted.

“I had a lot of good ideas for the toy I was working on.” Adam said, “But they weren't interested in my ideas. They just wanted me to work faster.”

“Toy?”

“I worked for a company that came up with new ideas for children's toys. I was working on this one doll – she could have turned out amazing – but I didn't get to finish it because of the termination.”

“Robbed the children of the world of a wonderful toy then, eh?” Nigel said.

“They did.” Adam nodded, solemnly. “But this job at the observatory will focus on one subject and will include a lot of research. It sounds better than my old job. I hope they do not fire me after one week, and I have traveled all this way for nothing.”

“I don't think that will happen.”

“Some people don't like me.” Adam said, “I mean, what if I get there and everyone hates me?”

“Adam, you have to realize that's bullshit.”

“But it's true sometimes.”

“I'm having trouble believing you.”

“Well … it's true.”

Nigel grunted under his breath. He fished in his pockets, and came up with a half-empty, crumpled pack of cigarettes and his lighter.

“This is a non-smoking room.” Adam said.

Nigel pursed his lips around the cigarette, and flicked the lighter with his thumb. The cigarette ignited, spilling pungent smoke into the air.

Adam's nose crinkled, and he waved a hand to dispel the cloud of smoke.

“You could get into trouble.” He said.

“If the staff finds out, I'll take full responsibility.” Nigel promised, “I've got to have a fucking cigarette.”

“Is your room a smoking room?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don't you go there?”

“Because I'm having a fucking conversation with you, love, and I'd rather stay here than watch the shit on TMZ alone in my room.”

Adam scowled, and pursed his lips.

“Are you kicking me out?” Nigel asked.

“No,” Adam huffed.

Nigel puffed on his cigarette, and blew smoke past a roguish smile.

“All right, look.” He said, “You have to ignore what people think of you.”

“What?”

“You were saying you're afraid you'll get to California and everyone at your job will dislike you.”

“Oh, yes.”

“You have to ignore those fucking assholes, because – I had to break it to you, kid – there are fucking assholes everywhere you go. There isn't one fucking place you can go, or job you can have where there won't be at least one bastard pulling you down.” Nigel said, “What you have to realize is that their opinion doesn't mean shit if you're good at your job. They can hate you all they like, but that won't change the quality of your work if you don't fucking let it.”

“It doesn't?”

“Not if you don't fucking let it in.” Nigel said, “Sometimes you've got to put on some hypothetical earplugs to tune out all the bullshit, and pretend like you can't hear it. Trust me, once you start not giving two shits about what all the ungrateful motherfuckers in this world think of you, your life will drastically improve.”

Adam scooted closer, his gaze focused intently on Nigel.

“Is that how you became the boss?” He asked.

“I didn't fucking learn that until _after_ I got to be in charge, which was a pretty shitty thing for me to learn without training wheels. You should learn it a lot sooner than I did. Save yourself a lot of trouble.”

“I can try.”

“See, you're lucky you have me to clue you in on these things.” Nigel said.

“I know.” Adam said, smiling bashfully at Nigel, “I'm glad I met you.”

Nigel let out a short breath laced with smoke, his eyes growing softer.

“I'm glad I met you, starman.”

Adam's smile widened, and he bit back a nervous giggle.

“I would have been so lost in the airport.” He said, “I can just imagine myself right now, running to and fro in the middle of a nervous breakdown.”

“Ah, no.”

“Yes.” Adam insisted, hiding his eyes, “This hotel. God, as soon as I walked in the door, I felt like bugs were crawling all over me, and it made me want to be sick if I didn't clean. But now I can't notice it at all.”

“You're a smart kid. You would have figured something out.”

“You haven't lived with Asperger's all your life like I have.” Adam said, “I can tell you, it would have been a terrible night and I wouldn't have slept at all. I could have had an episode and hurt myself all alone here in this terrible motel.”

“Is it so bad?” Nigel asked, glancing around the hotel, “It's a place to sleep, a roof over your head.”

“All I can think is that it's not home.” Adam said, his smiling fading, “It's not familiar. I'm not good with new places and people.”

“Except me.”

“We're connecting.”

“Yes.”

“But it's unusual for me.” Adam said, “That's why I'm lucky that you sat down next to me at the airport, and started a conversation. I never would have had the courage to talk to someone like you.”

“What does that mean? Someone like me?”

“Someone so …” Adam gave a wild gesture, “... so confident and … big.”

“Big?”

“Not physically. I mean in the sense of … I mean you are bigger than me physically, but that's not what I … your presence. Yes, that's what I mean. Your presence.”

Nigel's smiled a soft little smile that made Adam's heart start to beat faster.

“God.” Adam murmured, “What was I thinking?”

“About what?”

“Moving to California.” Adam said, shaking his head, “I left Manhattan so confident and ready to start my new life on my own without anyone's help, and now … I'm starting to realize that it was foolish of me. I couldn't navigate the airport by myself; how am I supposed to navigate the rest of my life?”

“What kind of talk is that?” Nigel asked, putting a hand on Adam's knee, “I've known you for what – five hours? - and I know you're talking bullshit.”

“I know you're trying to make me feel better, but-”

“Adam, listen to me.” Nigel said.

He sat up, and took Adam's hands in his own. His hands were warm and strong, and Adam wanted to cling on for dear life because it was the only thing that felt safe in a strange, unfamiliar place.

“Listen.” Nigel repeated, “A long time ago, when I was just a kid running around the streets of Bucharest – a thief, that's how low I was – an old man who ran one of the fruit stands in the market caught me stealing apples. He yelled at me to go home – I told him I didn't have a home. He told me to go get a fucking job, and I told him I couldn't get one. He said everyone is capable of getting a job if they try. I told him no one wanted to hire me, and he asked if I had tried to get a job. I admitted that I hadn't tried very hard, and finally I broke down and told him that I was afraid no one would ever want runty little gypsy kid like me working for them. And you know what he said to me?”

“What?” Adam whispered.

“He said 'everything you've ever wanted is on the other side of fear'. Including that fucking job I didn't have to balls to look for.”

Adam blinked, repeating the words over in his head to analyze their meaning.

“If you never take a chance on anything, you will stay in the same fucking boring place for the rest of your life.” Nigel said, softly, “You will never achieve everything you hope for, and you'll get to the end of your life and realize that you can't start over. You can't get to the things that you want because you're too old and weak to do them now. You have to seize the moment when you are young, even if it scares the hell out of you.”

“That makes sense.” Adam whispered.

“It's the goddamn truth.” Nigel said, “That's how I became the boss. You can't fear anything, not even the wrath of God.”

“I'll never be like you.” Adam said, “Nigel, I'm afraid of everything.”

“It's fine to be afraid. But you have to learn to defy that ingrained nature of self-preservation that makes you run away from your fears. Most of them won't kill you like you think they will. Most of the time the things you don't think will hurt you are the things that hurt you most.”

“You're right.” Adam said. He sniffed, and lifted his chin a notch. “I'm already halfway to California. I have to do this. I have to prove to everyone that I can do this.”

“Don't do that either.”

“Do what?”

“Don't do what you're doing for anyone but yourself. You deserve to celebrate the victory for yourself, not have it soured by other people's shitty opinions.”

Adam let out a sigh.

“You told me that I am smart, but you are much smarter than me, Nigel.”

“I'm just the brainless motherfucker you learned from experience. Get burned enough fucking times and you'll learn by yourself all right.”

Adam bit back a laugh.

“It's true.” Nigel said,“Experience is the best teacher, or so they say. I'm just so fucking old that I finally learned everything.”

“You're not old.” Adam said.

“Sometimes it feels like I am.” Nigel said, “Feel it right down to my fucking bones when I'm tired and exhausted and I can't move an inch. Sometimes I look in mirror and see all the wrinkles and lines, and they just look like fucking ugly scars to me.”

Adam settled against the pillows, and brought his face right up next to Nigel's.

He extended a finger to Nigel's cheekbone, and traced the crease of crows feet spilling from the corner of his eye.

“I like them.” He whispered.

“You'd be the first.” Nigel grumbled.

“You know how on HGTV they have all of those house hunting shows, and the people always say they are looking for 'character' in older houses?”

“Sure.”

“That's what these wrinkles are like.” Adam said, “Character.”

Nigel's chest rumbled with a low chuckle.

“That's a nice way of putting it.”

Adam sighed, and lowered his head against Nigel's shoulder. He waited for a moment to see if Nigel would stiffen or protest, but his shoulder remained loose and soft under Adam's head. Adam nuzzled closer into the soft expanse of Nigel's chest. The faded smell of cologne and clean laundry wandered past his nostrils as he drifted into slumber.

He hardly recalled muttering to Nigel, “I'm so tired,” and Nigel whispering back, “Go to sleep, starman. Dream of outer space.”

 


	4. Open Wounds

Nigel watched the European football tournament on the TV with the sound muted while Adam slumbered against his shoulder. He used one of the glasses meant for drinking as an ash tray, and drank the alcohol directly from the little bottles.

Smoking, drinking, watching football, finally relaxing with Adam asleep on his chest after the nineteen hour flight and subsequent delay – today had gone from bad to better to good in a matter of a few hours. Nigel felt an unfamiliar sense of ease and comfort. Though it was not insulated by his regular dose of paranoia and alertness toward danger, he enjoyed and fostered the small seed of genuine happiness growing in his chest.

He smoked all of his cigarettes accept for one, and immediately chided himself for having left himself with one single lifeline. If and when the storm abated, he would have to go out and purchase more.

At the moment, the wind was still howling outside the motel, and rain hammered out a constant rhythm against the windowpane. When he switched from the sports channel to the local news, the forecaster was warning of flooding and an ongoing tornado warning.

Adam had been asleep for two hours when a roll of thunder and a deafening crack of lightning shook the motel. He jarred awake with a whine, and grabbed at Nigel's arm. Bleary blue eyes blinked open and darted around the room, disoriented and confused by the unfamiliar surroundings.

“It's okay.” Nigel said, patting Adam's hand, “It's just the storm.”

Adam rubbed a hand over his eyes, and curled up tighter next to Nigel.

“Aren't you going to sleep?” He whispered, his voice low and husky.

“I slept on the plane.”

“That's not very good quality of sleep. The human body requires at least seven hours of sleep each night, but nine is better. Not getting enough sleep can lead to headaches, poor vision, weight gain, irritability, distractedness, and more. Some studies even suggest that not getting enough sleep can lead to cancer.”

“Cancer seems a little far-fucking-fetched. It's just a godawful bout of jet lag.”

“The best way to avoid jet lag is to take care of yourself properly on the first night in a new time zone.” Adam said, “That means not eating large meals right before bed, not drinking alcohol, and turning off devices like TV's and computers.”

“I'm sure you're right.”

“I know that I am right. It's science, Nigel. Humans, animals, and plants alike all have a circadian rhythm that, when disrupted, causes all of the things I was talking about.”

“Circadian what?”

“Circadian rhythm. Another layman's term is 'biological clock'. Our bodies are constantly cycling through a twenty-four hour rhythm that is established by sleeping, eating, exercising, and any other activity we do at the same time every day. If it is disrupted by irregular sleep patterns, it can cause all of those side affects I mentioned.”

Nigel sighed, and grabbed the remote.

“You're not going to relent until I turn it off, are you?”

“Sleep is one of the most vital keys to overall health.” Adam said, somberly, “You should not be so cavalier about it.”

Nigel clicked off the TV, and rolled onto his side to face Adam.

“You also told me we should sleep in our own beds.” He murmured, “Were you right about that too, or no?”

Adam smiled, sheepishly.

“Well-”

Another crack of lightning rattled the windowpane, and cut off Adam's bashful explanation. He gasped, and huddled farther down against the sheets.

“I think I should stay.” Nigel remarked.

“I'm not afraid. It was just very loud.” Adam said, “I'm not good with loud noises.”

“It will all be over after tonight.” Nigel said.

“I know.” Adam murmured, “Los Angeles doesn't get much rainfall throughout the year, much less a storm of this magnitude. It's prone to dry, hot weather and droughts, but at least it will be quiet.”

“I assume you'll be living in a suburb rather than in the city itself then?”

“Harlan spoke with the realtor on the phone. He got it all set up for me.” Adam said, “I have never been to the apartment, of course, but the realtor assured Harlan that it's a quiet street where a lot of older people live. It even has a balcony where I can take my telescope to stargaze.”

“Of course. Stargazing is a necessity.”

“It's my safe place.” Adam said, “When I was a child, I didn't know how to manage my Asperger's as well as I do now. It's very hard on young children. You don't fit in anywhere, and people are always telling you to stop acting weird, or stop talking about things other people don't care about … Anyway, looking at the stars always helped me feel better. It made me feel calm because there are literally millions of stars in the universe and beyond. You don't understand how large the universe is until you begin to study and read and try to memorize and locate all of the constellations and planets. In comparison, every person on this planet is a small speck of dust. When I discovered that, it made me think that what all of those people said to me didn't really matter. I was seeing something of importance, and for a moment, I was the only one seeing.”

There was a beat of silence as Nigel gazed at Adam's distant expression, illuminated by the rhythmic flashes of lightning that sparked sharp and blue through the blinds. Adam's eyes flashed the brightest blue Nigel could have imagined, more beautiful in their fiery passion of the universe than anything that had discussed before.

“The universe is in constant motion.” Adam said, “On earth, people have a tendency to think that it's this planet that is in motion, and we are the only part of existence that matters. But if you can imagine it, Nigel, the entire galaxy is one massive, moving part. All the galaxies, planets, stars, black holes, and everything else is moving faster than the speed of light. Some of these parts will never see each other because we are moving so quickly, and eventually, the world will fade to black because we have moved so far away from each other, and beyond the light.”

“That's incredible.” Nigel whispered.

“It really is.”

Adam settled onto his back to gaze at the ceiling, and folded his hands loosely on his stomach. Nigel shifted closer to him, and gingerly touched the curve of his wrist. His skin was softer than Nigel had imagined.

“No.” Nigel murmured, “I mean you.”

Adam's gaze darted to Nigel's. The flush on his cheeks was laid bare by the flashes of lightning that lit up the room like daylight.

Drawing in a breath that shuddered his thin chest, Adam lifted his hand from his stomach, and arched it back against the pressure of Nigel's fingertips. Nigel's fingers slid along the back of Adam's hand, grazing against the knuckles, and sliding in between Adam's fingers.

The only sound was their shallow breathing and the low hum of thunder beyond the window. The space between them assumed that of the electric lighting that rattled the windowpanes, a force of heat and magnetism that drew Nigel's hips of their own accord against Adam's thigh.

Nigel bit at his lower lip, swallowing back the sounds of need that wrestled at the back of his throat. He suffocated the driving force of arousal, and stepped gingerly toward Adam's vulnerability like it was covered in shards of glass.

Adam turned his hand against Nigel's until their palms collided. Adam's hand rested against Nigel's for a long moment, his wide, blue eyes taking in the the smallness of his bones and fingers in comparison to Nigel's large, calloused ones.

“Nigel-” Adam began, his voice trembling.

Nigel pushed himself up onto his elbow over Adam, and took Adam's cheek in his palm. Their eyes met, tangled emotions of need, fear, anticipation, and desire hovering between them in the static silence.

Adam swallowed hard, his eyelashes fluttering against pink cheeks, his lips moving in a silent struggle to express his thoughts. He pressed one hand against Nigel's chest, and curled his fingers around the fabric of his shirt.

“You-you said that you … that you like me.” Adam whispered.

“I was wrong.” Nigel replied, his voice quiet and straining, “I should have said that I've never met anyone like you. That I can't waste this opportunity.”

“Opportunity to what?”

“To feel something.” Nigel said, his fingers clutching Adam's cheek harder, “Something that I've never felt before, that I didn't know I needed, but now … now I can't imagine letting this day finish without having it.”

Adam blinked up at him. His expression was a tremulous mixture of innocence and desire. He was soft and dripping with vulnerability, a tenderness that Nigel ached to take in his grasp and ravish.

A rumble of thunder, and a crack of lighting sliced through the tension between them. Adam clung onto Nigel, his fist shivering around the handful of fabric.

“Fuck it.” Nigel whispered.

Clutching Adam's cheek, he bent down to press his mouth hard across Adam's. Their lips collided with an initial rush of destructive need that coursed through Nigel's veins, but he forced himself to soften the kiss as Adam whimpered beneath him.

For several long, breathless moments, Adam didn't respond. His body lay rigid beneath Nigel's, and his lips twisted firm and shocked to the caress of Nigel's mouth.

A torrent of curses streamed through Nigel's brain, but the fear of rejection didn't deter him from sliding his hand down Adam's throat and chest to grip at his hip. He pulled Adam tighter against him, and pressed a moan into the kiss.

Adam broke free of his rigid stance, but only to push Nigel's weight away from him.

His mouth tore away from Nigel's with a gasp, and he sat up on the edge of the bed, breathing hard.

“Wh-what … what are you doing?” He sputtered, rubbing the sleeve of his hoodie across his mouth.

Nigel sat back against his elbows, biting back his frustration.

“What do mean what am I doing?”

“Why are you … What did …?” Adam's questions petered off each time he managed to speak.

Jumping up from the bed, he paced the room with his hands locked in his hair.

“I'm confused.” He whispered.

“I fucking like you, Adam.” Nigel said, “When I said that earlier, I didn't mean as a fucking friend.”

“You didn't say that.” Adam cried, “I didn't know what you meant.”

“Fucking shit.” Nigel muttered.

Sitting up, he rubbed a hand over his face, and sucked back the swell of anger in his chest. The sting of rejection hurt worse than his fucking head.

“I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.” Adam said, “It was probably my fault, I know, but I'm not … I can't really understand if … if you _like_ like me, or if you just like me as a person, or if-”

“I _like_ like you, okay? Is that fucking clear enough?”

They both stopped abruptly as Nigel's angered remark cut like a knife through the room. Adam stared at him, wide-eyed and trembling, moisture building against his eyelids.

“Fuck.” Nigel whispered, “Fuck, Adam, I'm sorry.”

Adam pursed his trembling lips against a wave of emotion. He stood still in the middle of the room, his hands twitching and curling into fists for a long moment, before he spun around and ran to the bathroom.

“Adam-”

The door slammed shut behind him, and Nigel heard a thump as he sank to the floor against it.

“Fucking shit.” Nigel growled into the silence.

He rose from the bed, and halted abruptly with one hand on the nightstand as a wave of dizziness spun his brain in circles. A sharp, hot knife of pain cut through the side of his head, reminding him that he hadn't taken any painkillers since earlier that evening when they were waiting at the airport.

 _You have to take care of yourself._ His doctor had advised him before he left, _If I cannot be there to treat you, you have to pay attention to the wound._

And fuck it, here he was, paying more attention to a strange, beautiful man with stars in his eyes.

Nigel put a hand to his head, feeling at the dressings wrapped around the wound.

When he pulled his hand down, his fingers were bloody.

 

~

 

Adam huddled on the bathroom floor, clutching his head between his hands and fighting back tears.

The tile of the bathroom floor was grimy and yellowed from use, and the room smelled like cheap lemon cleaner. If he hadn't been upset, he would have been revolted at the thought of lying on the filthy floor with the competing smells of lemon cleaner and urine going up his nostrils, but all he could focus on when the din of panic swelling in the back of his mind.

He breathed deep through his nose and out his mouth. He counted from one to ten over and over again. He tried repeating the constellations; anything to remove his mind from the panic.

In the jumbled mess of his brain and emotions, he couldn't distinguish whether he was upset that Nigel _like_ liked him and hadn't told him, or that Nigel had kissed him and yelled at him in quick succession. He couldn't keep up with Nigel's reactions, much less respond to them with any calm intelligence. All he could do was sit on the bathroom floor, and try not to cry.

The moments crawled by in long stretches of breathless panic that seemed to go on forever. He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting on the bathroom floor by the time the panic subsided from his chest and he was able to breathe regularly again.

For good measure, he sat on the floor for another ten minutes.

When he was sure the episode was over, he picked himself up and faced his pale, red-blotched, tear-streaked face in the mirror.

_Now he really won't like you._

Adam cranked on the water with trembling hands, and splashed some on his face. The cool water soothed the heat of tears and shame, but it couldn't wash away that single thought.

He wiped his face with a towel, and drew in a deep breath.

_Just go out and apologize. Be honest and forward._

He wasn't sure what he was going to be honest and forward about, but Dad had always told him it was better to approach people directly. Use your words. People respect you more if you know what you want.

Adam didn't know if he wanted to run away and never see Nigel again, or if he wanted to salvage what he could of the relationship to ensure Nigel continued _like_ liking him. He simply knew he couldn't hide in the bathroom for the rest of the night.

Adam sucked in a deep breath, and opened the bathroom door.

The room beyond was dark except for the intermittent flashes of lighting that cast fingers of light between the blinds. It was silent, too silent.

Adam stepped out of the bathroom and squinted into the room. The bed was empty. No sign of Nigel.

“Nigel?” He whispered.

No reply. Maybe Nigel had become frustrated with Adam's unreachable behavior and gone back to his own room. The thought made Adam panic because he had no idea what room Nigel was in, and the thought of going downstairs to ask the receptionist made him want to crumple with fear.

“Nigel?” He repeated in a trembling whisper.

Adam crept across the room toward the light switch. The darkness was making him uneasy, and the threatening rumble of thunder didn't help his nerves.

Just as he came around the end of the bed, Adam saw the figure lying on the floor.

For a moment, he was frozen in shock.

“N-nigel?”

He slapped on the light, flooding the room with blinding, yellowed light from the lamp.

He gasped as his eyes came to rest on Nigel's body sprawled out on the floor, blood seeping fresh and bright red through the bandage around his head.

“Nigel!” Adam cried.

He ran to Nigel's side, and sank to his knees next to Nigel's motionless body. He grabbed at Nigel's cheeks, giving the other man a fierce shake in an attempt to wake him.

“Nigel, please wake up.”

Nigel's eyes were shut, his mouth slack.

Adam grabbed Nigel's wrist, and felt for a pulse. His heart was beating, and he was breathing. Just unconscious. But he was bleeding from his head, and that wasn't good.

Adam sat back, and squeezed his eyes shut. He breathed slow and shallow, trying to recall what he knew about first aid.

_R.I.C.E._

_Rest, ice, compress, elevation._

Adam glanced wildly around the room, and located one of the pillows. He snatched the pillow from the bed, and lifted Nigel's head from the ground to push it underneath. Nigel's head lolled in his grasp, and a thin line of blood spilled out from underneath the bandage and down his cheek.

“Oh no, no, no.” Adam whispered, “Nigel, please wake up. You're bleeding.”

With the pillow shoved as far underneath Nigel's head as he could manage, Adam sat back and clutched his head between his hands.

He had to find someone. He had to get help. But he didn't want to leave Nigel's side.

Adam jumped up from the floor, and ran to the phone sitting on the nightstand. He dialed the number for the motel's office.

“Sunshine Motel, how can I help you?”

“Hello, yes, hello?”

“Hello?”

“Yes, I-I need help. I'm in room … room … room 113. My friend is passed out; he's bleeding. I need help.”

“Sir, did you say your friend is bleeding?”

“Is there a doctor? He won't wake up.”

“Sir, you need to call 911. There is no doctor on the premises.”

“Do you have a first aid kit? I need to put pressure on the wound.”

“What room did you say?”

“113. Please hurry.”

“Sir, I'm sending someone right away. Please call 911 as soon as you hang up.”

“I will, I will. Hurry.”

Adam hung up the phone, and glanced over his shoulder.

Nigel was groaning, and trying to open his eyes.

“Nigel!” Adam cried.

He ran back to Nigel's side, and put a hand on Nigel's shoulder to keep him from sitting up.

“Adam?” Nigel groaned, “What the fuck …?”

“You passed out.” Adam explained, “And you're bleeding from your head. You must have torn open your stitches.”

“Who were you talking to?”

“I called the front desk. I didn't know what to do.” Adam said, “She said she would come with a first aid kit, but I need to call an ambulance.”

“No.”

“What? Nigel, you're bleeding-

“Don't you dare call a fucking ambulance.” Nigel growled, “Do you fucking hear me, Adam?”

“Yes, I-... But why? Nigel, you need help.”

“I'm fucking fine, all right, love?”

Adam watched in disbelief as Nigel attempted to sit up. He got up to his elbows before his face drained of color, and he sank back against the pillow. He put a hand to his head, smearing his fingers through the blood on his cheek.

“Fuck.” He muttered.

“What happened?” Adam asked.

“I don't fucking know.” Nigel grunted, “I got up from the bed after you went into the bathroom, and everything went black.”

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“I don't need a fucking ambulance.” Nigel said, “That is one thing I'm fucking sure of.”

“Why not?”

“Because, love, it'll cost me an arm and a leg, and it goes into a fucking record.”

Adam's mouth slipped open as he realized what Nigel was saying.

“The people who might try to find you ...”

“A hospital is the easiest place to get a bullet in your fucking head.” Nigel said, “People die in hospitals all the time; it's the easiest fucking location you can give someone to take you out.”

“Nigel, this is serious.” Adam whispered, “You need help.”

“I'll be fine.”

A demanding knock on the door jarred Adam up from the floor. He ran to the door, and yanked it open. A woman in a motel uniform stood outside, holding a first aid kit in her arms.

“Please come in.”

Adam let the woman inside and pushed the door shut behind her.

“Holy Christ.” She said when she laid eyes on Nigel.

“I'm fucking fine.” Nigel repeated.

“Sir, did you call the ambulance like I told you to?” The woman asked Adam.

Adam shook his head.

“Why not?”

“I told him not to. It's fucking fine.” Nigel said, “Just give me the first aid kit, and I'll treat myself.”

“I can't let you do that.” The woman said, “The motel could be liable if we don't call an ambulance for you.”

“I said, I'll be fucking fine.” Nigel growled with the most force he could manage, “Now give me the goddamn first aid kit and scram.”

The woman's eyes widened, but she thrust the first aid kit into Adam's hands.

“You and I are witnesses.” She said, “If he tries to launch a lawsuit against this motel for his injuries-”

“There's not going to be any fucking lawsuit.” Nigel said, “I'm fucking fine, and I know how to fucking deal with this. It's worse than it fucking looks; you don't have to worry about it. Now get the fuck out of here.”

The woman glanced in disbelief between Adam and Nigel, and put up her hands.

“Fine.” She muttered, as she marched past Adam to the door, “But if your friend is seriously hurt, I won't be to blame.”

“Thank you for bringing the first aid kit.” Adam said.

The door slammed shut behind her.

“That was rude.” Adam said to Nigel, “She was just trying to help.”

“I'm bleeding out of my fucking head, and it feels like my fucking skull is about to split in two, so forgive me if I don't have any fucking patience to give.” Nigel said.

“Okay, okay.” Adam said, “What do you want to do now?”

“Help me get off this fucking floor.”

Adam set the first aid kit down on the bed, and knelt down next to Nigel. Nigel grabbed onto his shoulder, and pulled himself up into a sitting position. He rested for a moment, breathing slow and steady through his nostrils. Blood trickled down his jaw and neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt.

“Nigel, this is scaring me.” Adam whispered.

“Trust me when I say it's fine, all right, love? Can you do that for me?”

“I don't know...”

Nigel grunted, and motioned for Adam to keep moving.

Gripping Nigel's arm around his shoulders, Adam shifted to his feet. Nigel did his best to pull himself to his feet, but Adam did most of the work to pull them upright.

“I'm going to drop you.” Adam warned.

“I'm fucking trying.” Nigel said, “Just get me to the bathroom.”

Adam grabbed the first aid kit from the bed, and wrapped his other arm tight around Nigel's waist.

“Fuck.” Nigel groaned.

His feet dragged as if he was walking through an ocean tide, but he managed to keep up with Adam's baby steps across the room.

It was several long moments before they reached the bathroom. Adam's shoulders were burning from carrying most of Nigel's weight, and he let out a relieved sigh when Nigel sank to the closed lid of the toilet.

Under the harsh lights of the small bathroom, his face was ashen and etched with pain, the thin trickle of blood down his cheek stark bright against his pale skin.

Adam opened the first aid kit, and searched through it's contents.

“As long as we have fresh bandages I'll be fine.” Nigel said.

“It's here.”

Nigel felt for the taped end of the bandage around his head, and tore it open. He unwound the bandage to reveal a massive gash along the side of his forehead and temple where thick, black stitching was torn open. Blood poured from that side of the wound, coursing dark red and sticky down his cheek and into his hairline.

“Oh my god.” Adam whispered, pressing a hand over his mouth.

“It's fine.” Nigel grunted.

He tossed the old bandage in the trash, and grabbed a piece of gauze from the first aid kit to hold over the part of the wound that was bleeding.

“I'm going to put pressure on it, and I need you to wipe away the excess blood.” He said.

Adam swallowed hard.

“Okay.”

“Get a towel and run it under cold water.” Nigel instructed.

Adam grabbed one of the rags from the rack by the shower, and cranked on the faucet. His hands were shaking as he ran the rag under the cold water, but he was surprised by the sense of calm in his chest. His thoughts were following a logical pattern – clean the wound, stop the bleeding, dress the wound, prevent infection.

Nigel tilted his head back as Adam wiped the cold rag along his cheek and jaw, turning the white rag red with smears of blood.

“You seem to know what you are doing when it comes to wounds.” Adam said as he smoothed the rag under Nigel's jaw and down his throat.

“I fucking told you I wasn't making up how many times I've been shot or stabbed.”

“I didn't want a demonstration.”

“I know you're not used to dealing with blood and head wounds.” Nigel said, his eyes cracking open to watch Adam intently, “I'm sorry, angel.”

Adam sighed, avoiding Nigel's gaze.

“Maybe you shouldn't call me that.” He whispered, “Or 'love', or 'sweetheart', or anything since I didn't kiss you back.”

“I fucking mean it.” Nigel said, “You are an angel, Adam. A real fucking angel in the flesh for helping me right now, and not calling a fucking ambulance.”

“I should have called them.” Adam said. He held up the rag, and motioned to the red staining into the fabric, “This is a lot of blood, Nigel.”

“I've had worse.”

“Move the gauze so I can clean the wound.”

Nigel pulled the gauze away, leaving the open wound vulnerable and bleeding. Blood swelled from the open flesh, and Adam had to purse his lips to stem the nausea churning in his stomach.

He wiped gently at the edges of the wound, muttering an apology each time Nigel cringed in pain.

“Is there alcohol in that bag?” Nigel asked.

Adam rummaged through the contents, and came up with a small bottle of disinfectant.

“Wash your hands.” Nigel said, “Then put some of the disinfectant on a new rag.”

Adam moved mechanically to follow Nigel's instructions. He scrubbed his hands and wrists with soap in the sink, and dried them before taking a fresh towel from the rack.

Pouring out some of the disinfectant on the rag, he put a hand on Nigel's head and brought the rag to the wound.

Nigel hissed and swore in Romanian as the alcohol in the disinfectant seared through the wound.

“I'm sorry.” Adam whispered.

“It's fucking fine.”

Adam dabbed disinfectant in and around the wound thoroughly before dropping the stained rag in the sink, and picking up a fresh piece of gauze.

“Hold this.” He said.

Nigel held the gauze over the wound as Adam ripped open the packaging of new bandage.

Adam wrapped the bandaging around Nigel's head and over the gauze covered wound, securely enough to put pressure on the wound but still allow blood flow through other veins. Taping the bandage off, he turned back to the sink without a word.

Nigel watched him silently as Adam threw the used rags in the trash and washed his hands again.

“I'm sorry.” Nigel said, at last.

“I forgive you.”

“You don't know what I'm apologizing for.”

“For this?” Adam asked, motioning to the bloody rags and the first aid kit.

“Yes. And for yelling at you before. It was fucking rude and uncalled for.”

“I didn't kiss you back.” Adam said.

He leaned against the sink, and stared down into the drain, too afraid of what he might see in Nigel's eyes if he looked up.

“I've been rejected before.” Nigel said, “I should know how to fucking deal with it. I could come up with a million excuses, like having a bad fucking break-up, or getting shot in the fucking head, but … The truth is I can't fucking think of starting over by myself.”

The remark drew Adam's gaze from the sink. Nigel gazed at him with soft, brown eyes that swam with tears. It shook Adam to see him crumbling; despite having known each other for less than a day, Adam knew Nigel wasn't weak.

“I've been in love for … fucking years.” Nigel said, “She broke my goddamn heart, and it fucking hurts like a motherfucker. I didn't realize how much of my strength and stability I put into our relationship until she was gone. Just like that.”

He sniffed, and dragged a hand across his eyes, smearing tears down his cheekbone.

Adam stared at him, shocked and speechless. He couldn't think of a single word to say.

“Fuck.” Nigel muttered, “I'm just trying to say … I'm fucking lonely, Adam, and you … you're the first person since her to make me feel like a whole person.”

“Nigel, I … I don't know what I should say.” Adam whispered.

“You don't have to say anything, sweetheart.” Nigel said, “Just fucking know … This isn't desperation for me. Maybe I am lonely as fuck, but I'm not just trying to fill the void with the first person I meet. It feels fucking real; that's why I kissed you.”

“I'm not sure what real feels like.” Adam said, lowering his head, “I thought I did, but ...”

“You got your heart smashed to fucking pieces. I know. It hurts like hell.”

“It really does.” Adam whispered, emotion rising hot and thick in his throat, “I don't know where to go from here … who to trust ...”

“You're scared. I fucking get it.”

Adam lifted moist eyes to Nigel's, and felt his chest collapse.

Nigel rose from the toilet seat to catch Adam in his arms. Adam went willingly into the embrace, and buried his face in the warmth of Nigel's chest as the tears came hot and fast.

“What if … what if I'm just running?” Adam choked out between sobs, “What if this is the wrong thing for me to do? I'm so scared.”

“Sometimes running is all you can do, angel.” Nigel whispered.

His arms tightened around Adam, and one hand lifted to stroke through his hair. Adam's sobs broke louder into the silence against the simple, soothing caress. It felt like the first real comfort he'd had in months, and it came in the arms of a stranger. He didn't know whether to feel elated or terrified.

 


	5. The Other Side of Fear

Nigel woke the next morning feeling like a changed man.

Adam was curled up next to him, sunlight glinting off his silky, chestnut curls. A smile pulled at Nigel's mouth as he watched Adam's shoulder rise and fall, and listened to the tiny sounds of contented sleep issue from between his parted lips.

He didn't think of kissing Adam or trying to sleep with him. What gripped his chest now was an intense need to protect the kind, gentle soul sleeping next to him. It was all he could offer in thanks for all Adam had done for him, body and soul.

A glance at the clock told him that they had an hour and a half before the bus was supposed to come pick them up to take them back to the airport.

Nigel got up from the bed, and pried open the blinds an inch to see what the weather was like. Everywhere there was signs of wind and rain from the night before, but the sun was shining and the sky was the clearest blue. The clouds were gone; it was a new day.

Nigel left Adam sleeping in the bed, and went into the bathroom to take a quick shower. He had to redress the wound after washing his hair, but he was pleased to see that the bleeding had stopped.

He walked back into the room, and sat down on the edge of the bed to nudge Adam awake.

Rubbing Adam's back, he whispered, “Wake up, starman.”

Adam groaned, his brow furrowing. Nigel gave him another nudge, and Adam's eyelids fluttered open against the warm light of sunshine filling the room.

“The bus will be here in an hour.” Nigel said, “If you want a shower, you should get up now.”

Adam groaned, and rubbed his hands over his eyes.

After a few moments of rolling around on the bed and stretching, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Thank you for waking me up.” He said.

Nigel smiled at his disheveled curls and half-shut eyes.

“I'm going to go across the street and grab breakfast from the McDonalds.” He said, “Go get a shower, and we'll eat when you're done.”

“Okay.”

Adam stumbled to the bathroom, rubbing one hand over his eyes.

Nigel slid on his shoes, grabbed the room key, and stepped out onto the balcony that wrapped around the second level of the building. He took the stairs down to the parking lot, and crossed the street to the McDonalds.

Since it was early, the restaurant was filled with the breakfast crowd, but Nigel managed to make it through the line without having to wait too long. He ordered two coffees, pancakes for Adam, and eggs, bacon, and a biscuit for himself.

Arms loaded with a large paper sack of their breakfast, he walked back across the street to the motel.

Adam had just gotten out of the shower, and was combing his hair in front of the mirror in nothing but his boxers.

He gasped, blushed bright pink, and slammed the bathroom door shut when Nigel announced his return.

Nigel chuckled as he unloaded the carry out bag onto the small table in the corner of the room.

While he waited for Adam, he sipped on his coffee and turned on the TV to the local news.

The newscaster was showing images of the the storm's overnight destruction and urging people to give to their local shelter to help the victims. The tornado had touched down miles away from the airport and motel, but it appeared that the airline's decision to cancel the flight had been the right one.

When Adam came out of the bathroom, fully dressed, he sat down at the table with Nigel, and pinned his gaze to the TV.

Nigel focused on Adam while he chewed on his bacon and eggs, more interested in Adam than the news.

“I should call Harlan.” Adam announced.

He finished his pancakes, and took his cellphone into the bathroom.

Nigel listened to Adam's side of the conversation through the thin walls. He could hear Adam talking at a fast pace about the storm, the cancellation, and staying in this awful motel. He didn't say a word about Nigel.

Nigel recalled Adam's remark about not telling Harlan because Harlan would be worried.

_I'm too dangerous for someone like Adam._

Nigel scowled as the thought crossed his mind. He pulled out his last cigarette, and lit up with a frustrated puff.

He and Adam's worlds couldn't be anymore different; one night of heart-to-heart conversation, and this lovely morning domesticity didn't change that. Nigel was an animal in comparison to soft, tender Adam, a young man with his eyes on the stars and a protective wall around his heart. He was vulnerable because of his disability, but Nigel knew he wasn't stupid. He would protect himself at all costs to ensure he didn't get hurt like he'd been hurt by that Beth person.

Nigel closed his eyes against the disappointing realizations.

The methodical hum of Adam's voice stopped, and the bathroom door opened.

“We should go downstairs.” Adam said, “I do not want to miss the bus.”

“I just have to grab my bags from my room.” Nigel said, “Meet me downstairs?”

“Okay.”

Nigel dumped the plastic containers and cups from breakfast into the trash, and stepped out of the motel room. He walked all the way down the balcony to his own room, and unlocked the door. The room inside was untouched, the bed sheets taut across the mattress, the curtains drawn, the towels in the bathroom crisp and clean. He'd barely taken a look around before heading down to Adam's room the night before.

Nigel grabbed his bags, and slammed the door shut behind him.

When he got down to the office, Adam had already checked out. Nigel gave his room key, and the airport voucher to the receptionist. Much to his relief, it was a different woman from the one he had cussed out the night before.

Nigel slung his bags over his shoulder, and walked outside to join Adam on the bench that sat in front of the office.

Adam gazed straight ahead. His hands sat flat out on his knees, as still as a marble statue.

“You've hardly said a word this morning.” Nigel said.

Adam's eyes moved slightly to regard Nigel from the side.

“Is it because of what happened last night?” Nigel asked.

“I'm just … thinking.”

“About what?”

“Everything. I have a lot on my mind.”

Nigel suppressed a sigh. He itched for a cigarette, but he'd smoked his last one this morning. Once they got to the airport and on the plane, he wouldn't get another until they landed in Los Angeles.

“Did I scare you, love?” He asked, “Bleeding out of my fucking head, and all that?”

“Of course that was scary.” Adam said, “I've never seen that much blood before.”

Nigel nodded, and scraped a hand through his hair. The sun was bright overhead, and the heat of the day soaked through his shirt and into his skin. It made his head ache.

“Do you still have that pen in your bag?” Nigel asked.

“Yes. Why?”

“Can I have it?”

Adam frowned at him, but he unzipped his bag and took the pen out.

Nigel took the pen, uncapped it, and took Adam's arm by the wrist.

“What are you doing?” Adam asked.

Nigel held Adam's hand flat out against his thigh, and wrote across it in gentle strokes. When he finished, he handed the pen back to Adam.

“What's this?” Adam asked.

“It's my phone number.” Nigel said.

“Oh.”

“You don't have to call me after today.” Nigel said, “But I want you to, so I'm giving you the opportunity.”

Adam gazed at the numbers written across the back of his hand, a unreadable, placid expression on his face.

“Yesterday, when we went outside the airport so I could smoke, you said 'after today, we'll never see each other again, and you won't care what happens to me.' I just want you to know that's a fucking lie.” Nigel said, “I'm not going to forget you, Adam. I fucking couldn't even if I tried.”

“You want me to call you so you can kiss me?” Adam asked, “And then have sex with me?”

Nigel grunted out a laugh. “Fuck, Adam, if you think that's all I want out of you, please don't call me.”

Adam frowned.

“I fucking mean … I mean, I want to know you, Adam. I don't just want to fuck you.”

“But you did.”

“I thought you weren't good at reading people.”

“When we were laying together on the bed, right before you tried to kiss me, you had an erection.” Adam said.

Nigel felt his throat and cheeks grow hot as Adam cast him a bland expression.

“I could feel it, against my leg.” Adam added.

Nigel dragged a hand across his face just so that he could break eye contact with Adam for a moment.

“I know you wanted to sleep with me last night.” Adam said, “You _like_ like me.”

“All right, if you've got that right.” Nigel said, “I won't argue with you about that, but I'm being as honest I fucking know how to when I say that's not all I want out of you.”

“I believe you.” Adam said, “But I don't know if I feel that way about other men.”

“You've never tried it?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I haven't thought about it.” Adam said, “I didn't think about girls that much either before I had sex with Beth.”

“So it could be possibility?”

“I don't know.” Adam said.

Nigel let out a sigh, and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“I'm sorry if that upsets you.” Adam said, “But you can't just get what you want, and I don't get what I want. It's not fair. Even I know that.”

“Of course not.” Nigel said, “I'm not fucking saying that, Adam. What kind of selfish prick do you think I am?”

“I don't know. We barely know each other. How would I know if you're not a selfish prick or not?”

“I'm fucking telling you right now that I'm not.”

“People say a lot of things to get what they want.”

“Well, how will you ever know if you don't fucking call me?” Nigel insisted.

Adam glanced down at his hand, and considered Nigel's question.

“I can't promise you that I will call you.” He said, “But I can tell you that I will think about yesterday for a long time. I might change my mind, but I don't know.”

“Adam, you can't fucking leave me hanging like that. Call me, or don't fucking call me, but don't fucking torture me with the unknown.”

“I can't promise you anything if I don't know what I think.” Adam said, “I just don't know, Nigel. I was scared last night, and it felt really good when you were holding me but-”

“But what? What does your gut say?”

“I don't know.” Adam said, holding up his hands, “Sometimes I'm wrong, Nigel. Sometimes what I'm thinking doesn't really make sense; it only makes sense to me.”

“Then who can you trust to know? Who is going to tell you what to do and what's right now that you're on your own?”

“I'll have to figure it out.” Adam said, “I knew it would be hard when I left Manhattan, and that has not changed just because I met you.”

The squeal of breaks and the rumble of large engine alerted them to the bus pulling into the parking lot. The other passengers from the canceled flight were dragging their carry-on bags toward the bus in a long line.

“We should go.” Adam said.

He picked up his bags, and marched across the parking lot toward the line for the bus.

Nigel muttered a curse in his native tongue. He'd fallen asleep last night sure that Adam felt the same way as him, but this morning, in the light of day, everything was different. Adam didn't trust him; and perhaps that hurt worse than anything else.

Nigel threw his bags carelessly over his shoulder, and strode to the line for the bus with frustration simmering in his chest. He had only a handful of hours to change Adam's mind; after that, he might never see him again.

 

~

 

After trudging through the airport and the line for security, Adam and Nigel reached the waiting area. They sat down side-by-side just as they had the day before, but few words were spoken between them.

Adam pulled out his phone and earbuds, and listened to music while they waited. He closed his eyes as he listened to familiar tunes, and breathed in deep. The music helped him focus on something other than the present. It took him away to the cool solitude of outer space, and the familiar, winking lights of stars he thought of as friends. Nothing to betray his trust out there in the vacuum of the universe. Out there was only scientific facts and predictable behaviors of planets, black holes, quasars, and stars.

Nigel's hand touched his some time later, jarring his eyes open to see the line to the gangway moving forward.

Adam put his phone and earbuds in his carry-on bag, and joined the line to the airplane. Nigel hovered behind him, his eyes pointed toward the floor. Adam could tell that he was still thinking about their conversation, and whether or not Adam would call him after today. Adam felt bad for making Nigel wait for his answer, but Adam thought it was best not to lie. He didn't know the answer yet either; he awaited the universe to tell him. Some sign, some assurance that this time it would be real; this time it wouldn't hurt him.

They walked up the gangway and into the narrow confines of the plane. Since the flight would only be three hours across the U.S., the airplane was a much smaller craft than Adam's and Nigel's previous flights. Four rows of seats were shoved into the plane, leaving a little over a foot of space between them to walk down.

Adam's shoulders rose around his ears as he was jostled and nudged from all sides. He searched up the down the rows for his seat number, desperate to escape the moving flow of the aisle and the unwelcome press of strangers.

When he reached his seat, he pushed his larger carry-on bag into the overhead, and ducked down into his chair with his smaller bag against his chest.

Nigel paused over the row, his eyes wide and trained on Adam.

Adam looked up at him, and gulped back a tide of anxiety.

Someone jostled Nigel from behind.

“Sir, this is my seat.” The man said.

“How about trading?” Nigel asked, “My seat is a few rows back.”

“No.” The man said, “It's my seat, and I'm going to sit in it. Are you going to move now?”

“My fucking apologies.” Nigel said.

Before the man could react to Nigel's coarse language, Nigel hoisted his carry-on bag higher on his shoulder and marched to his assigned seat.

Adam breathed out a sigh of relief.

The man who had the seat next to him put his carry-on in the overhead, and plopped down next to Adam.

“Is that asshole trying to bother you?” He asked.

“We know each other.” Adam said.

“That wasn't the question.”

“It's okay.” Adam said, “We hooked up last night.”

The man's expression shifted to confusion and surprise. Clearing his throat, he pulled out his cellphone and turned his attention away from Adam.

Adam bit back a smile. He had enough social blunders behind him to know that volunteering too much personal information often made nosy people uncomfortable, and persuaded them to stop asking questions.

Adam wasn't even sure if he was lying when he said he and Nigel “hooked up.” They hadn't slept together, but something monumental had occurred between them. He wasn't accustomed to making a connection to other people. What Adam had felt couldn't be confined to one definition or word.

With all of the passengers seated, the stewardess announced that they would be taking off shortly, and went through the safety spiel about the nearest exits and what to do in an emergency. When she was done speaking, the pilot introduced himself over the loudspeaker.

As the plane began to taxi down the runway, Adam turned his shoulder against the seat and stared out the window at the bland landscape passing by.

The plane picked up speed, engine rumbling and whining, and the wheels bouncing against the pavement as the aircraft surged toward the sky. The plane lifted off the ground, taking them in a dizzying tilt toward the sky.

Adam leaned his head back against the seat, and closed his eyes as the plane jolted and gravity crushed him back against his seat. He thought through the constellations until the plane was level again and the engine had settled to rhythmic hum.

When he opened his eyes, he could see the ground growing smaller below them, but he could make out the widespread destruction of the storm. The farther they rose above Dallas, the more Adam could see of the storm. In only a matter of minutes, the ripped, jagged pattern the tornado had taken was visible, as were the downed trees, destroyed homes, and scattered debris.

Adam swallowed hard as the closeness of the storm came into perspective. While he and Nigel had spent the night in Adam's hotel room, people had lost their homes. In a matter of one night, everything they loved was gone.

Adam wondered how close he had often been to losing everything, and just how easy it was to lose the material things people put so much value in, when they should have put more value into things that can't be destroyed by a storm.

_Everything you've ever wanted is on the other side of fear._

Adam pressed his eyelids shut against the invasion of Nigel's voice through his brain.

All he'd ever wanted was to be accepted, and Nigel was offering him that very thing with outstretched arms and a willing heart. But Adam was afraid. Afraid it would turn out like Beth. Afraid he trusted the feelings when he should have formed callouses. Afraid he might step out onto a limb expecting a safety net, and crashing and burning on the cold, hard ground.

Adam was flying far away from the tornado and the destruction, but the peril in his own heart would only ever be breath away. No matter how deeply he breathed, how many times he counted to ten, or how many constellations he recited, that fear of the unknown would never leave him. This time, there was no one to tell him what he should do.

 

~  
  


The three hour flight between Dallas, Texas and Los Angeles, California felt much longer than the previous two, eight hour segments the day before.

Sitting low in his seat, Nigel tapped his fingers restlessly against his knee, and tried to keep his eyes from straying to the back of Adam's head. Adam stared out his window for the first hour of the flight, and put his earbuds in for the last two hours. He was watching something on his phone; probably some videos about space and universe with a British narrator.

Nigel scrubbed his hands over his face, and gave himself a lengthy pep talk.

If Adam didn't call back, there was nothing he could – or should – do about it.

If he never saw Adam again, he could deal with it. Maybe.

Adam had his own freewill, and his own decisions to make; Nigel had to respect that Adam might make the choice to not call Nigel for his own good.

With every fiber of his body, Nigel wanted to get both of them off of this airplane and do everything he could to convince Adam that he was worth his time. Part of him was angry – the part of him that had gotten him into this situation in the first place. He tried to crush that part, already too wounded and at the end of his rope to consider making another rash move.

He didn't have the balls to do what he had done before. Not to Adam. He couldn't punish him for just trying to survive a rigorous break-up and a move all the way across the country.

Nigel was moving too fast, rebounding hard, crashing harder. Adam was smart to avoid him.

Despite having all these thoughts on constant rotation through his head for the duration of the flight, Nigel couldn't convince the pieces of desire and need lodged in his heart to let him breathe. The thought of losing something as rare and precious as Adam panicked him.

As the airplane descended over Los Angeles, Nigel's stomach began to churn harder. He tilted his head back against his seat, and squeezed his eyes shut as the pressure popped his ears and made his head ache.

When the plane came to a stop next to the airport, and the stewardess announced that everyone could get up, Nigel was the first out of his seat. He pulled his bag down out of the overhead, and shoved his way toward the front of the plane to get to Adam.

The narrow aisle of the plane clogged with foot traffic as everyone attempted to exit the plane at once. Nigel made it to Adam's seat before anyone could step out in front of him.

He grabbed Adam's bag down out of the overhead, and held onto it until Adam stepped out into the aisle.

Adam regarded him with a wide-eyed, yet unreadable expression.

Nigel offered him his bag.

Adam took the bag, and hoisted it over his shoulder. Without saying a word, he turned toward the front of the plane, and lowered his head against the din and claustrophobia of the small, crowded plane.

Nigel followed him down the front of the plane, past the cockpit, and onto the gangway. He kept pace with Adam all the way up the gangway, his stomach surging as if he were standing at the edge of a very tall cliff. He was about to plunge, falling into the black waters of the unknown. Still strong and brave in the face of danger – but maybe he was just too fucking stupid to be scared.

They made it out into the bustling airport where everyone was following the signs to the lower level to claim their baggage. In between the long strides and harried paces of the other passengers, Adam and Nigel stood still.

“I have to make one last plea.” Nigel said, “Forgive me if I'm too fucking bold, or stupid, or narrow-minded ...”

“You're not stupid.”

Nigel grunted a chuckle, and scraped his hand through his hair.

“I, uh … I think the jury's still out on that one, kid.”

Adam's mouth turned down at the side, and his brow furrowed.

“I can't promise you good things.” Nigel said, “Not all the time. I've done terrible fucking things, things I'm not proud of. Sometimes I get fucking tunnel vision, and the thing I want is the only thing I fucking care about.”

“Right now that thing is me.” Adam murmured.

“Yes.” Nigel said, “It's taking all my fucking willpower right now not to grab you by the throat and kiss you right here.”

Adam blinked, his cheeks blushing pink down to the collar of his hoodie.

“Maybe I'm too fucking passionate.” Nigel said, holding up his hands, “Fuck, maybe I don't know how to let the fuck go. But I can't, Adam. Not after how you've made me feel.”

“How have I made you feel?”

Nigel gazed at Adam for a beat, his heart clenching with all his desires – the ones he'd stared down in the mirror for years, and the unnamed ones he hadn't noticed until he looked into Adam's clear blue eyes.

“Some people want validation is money, recognition, power, and sometimes, I have those things. But after what I've been through, it didn't fucking matter. Not any of it. What you've given me is simple, Adam. It's just one reason to keep fucking going. One reason not to finish the job that cop fucking started by myself.”

“There are always reasons to live.” Adam said, “And I've realized that I can't depend on other people for those reasons.”

“Maybe I should realize it to.” Nigel said, “But this … It's all I'm holding onto, Adam. I'm holding on by my fucking fingernails.”

Adam released a slow breath, and lowered his gaze to the floor. His fingertips worked against the sleeve of his hoodie, desperate and scared rhythms against the soft texture.

“I'm sorry if I scared you last night.” Nigel said, “But I couldn't let you call that ambulance.”

“That's not why I'm afraid to call you.”

“Then why?”

“Because-” Adam began resolutely, but the confidence in his expression faded the moment the word left his lips.

“Because?” Nigel urged.

“Beth was safe.” Adam said, “She was nice. She was a school teacher. She was patient.”

“All the things I'm not.”

“I'm sorry, Nigel. I don't know if I fit into your world.” Adam said, “You should read about Asperger's. It's not a walk in the park. Being with someone who has AS is hard. Maybe we'll get into a relationship, and you'll see all of my flaws and my problems, and you'll realize it was a mistake.”

“I highly fucking doubt that.”

“You don't know.” Adam said, “ _I_ don't know. I don't know if I can give you everything you want. I don't know if I can give you kissing and sex. I don't know if-”

“But what do you feel?” Nigel asked.

He caught Adam by the shoulders, and looked straight into Adam's wide, blue eyes.

“Forget everything else, except for how last night felt. Please, just fucking try to see it the way I did.”

Adam swallowed hard. His gaze drifted from Nigel's, growing distant and cold.

After several long beats of silence and distant staring, Nigel let his hands fall from Adam's shoulders. He released a weary sigh, and scraped his hands through his hair.

His head was pounding again, and he longed for a cigarette. Just one drag. He needed some kind of fucking relief.

“I felt everything you did.” Adam whispered.

Nigel's head swiveled back to him, his heart leaping.

“Sometimes it's hard for me to translate what I'm feeling into words. Sometimes it's hard for me to even recognize what I'm feeling. But I did feel it.”

“But.” Nigel said, his throat tightened. “You're about to say 'but'.”

“I can't ignore logic.” Adam said, “The ratio of one night to the rest of the future is disproportionate, and not a reliable guide to how we should precede.”

“What?”

“Someone like me – someone who has AS – has a hard time thinking about the future, or even planning for it. I'm lucky because my dad was a patient and knowledgeable parent. He did everything he could to help me reach social maturity and milestones. That's why I have to remember what he always told me now. We have to recognize the flaws in a relationship we might have.” Adam said, “The rest of our futures will not be like last night. We can't base what we felt in one evening on how we should proceed; if we should proceed at all. It's simple logic, Nigel.”

“Logic.” Nigel muttered, “It's fucking cold, Adam.”

“I have to think of all of the elements in the equation.” Adam said, “I can't look at one component as the whole. It's hard for me, but I have to do it.”

“We're not a fucking science experiment.” Nigel said, his tone brooking on frustration, “We're human fucking beings, Adam; and we have to live. We have to love. It's the only thing that really matters in this fucked up world.”

Adam gazed at him for a long moment before turning toward the escalator winding to the floor below.

“Adam.” Nigel said.

“We should get our baggage.” Adam said.

Nigel watched Adam walk toward the escalator with a delayed sense of disbelief and panic.

He was so seized by the coldness in Adam's response that it took a minute for the finality to set in.

When he realized this moment was it – this was the end of the road – he felt a hot surge of anger in his chest.

Nigel broke into a run, and cut in front of an elderly couple to get onto the escalator. Shoving past other people, he roused disgruntled grumbled and indignant responses as he made his way down the escalator and to the busy floor below. He scanned the length of the floor, combing his eyes over the number of conveyor belts carrying luggage until he located their flight number.

Nigel marched down to the belt releasing the luggage for their flight, and searched the area for Adam. His hot pink hoodie stood out in the throng of passengers circled tight around the conveyor.

Nigel shouldered his way through the crowd to stand next to Adam.

They said nothing, but Nigel watched Adam out of the corner of his eye.

A plain black suitcase with a large tag labeled “Raki” came around the corner of the belt and made it's way toward them.

Adam stepped toward the belt, appearing terrified by the moving parts and speed.

“Is that yours?” Nigel asked.

Adam nodded.

Nigel stepped forward, and grabbed the suitcase off of the belt before it could pass them by. Heaving it over the edge, he sat it down next to Adam with a thud.

“I have another one coming.” Adam said.

Nigel grabbed his own suitcase off the belt while Adam waited for his second piece of luggage.

“Is that all you have?” Adam asked.

“Yep.” Nigel said, “That's my life, all packed away in one suitcase.”

Adam pursed his lips.

Nigel saw Adam's second suitcase coming, and avoided any further remark on the sad state of his existence by stepping forward to pull the suitcase off the belt.

Adam pulled out the handles of the suitcases, and dragged them away from the crowd. Nigel followed him as Adam walked toward the exits.

Just as they reached the doors, Nigel put a hand on Adam's forearm.

“Adam.”

“Yes?”

Adam paused with his hands wrapped white-knuckled around the handles of his suitcases. His eyes darted between Nigel's face and the floor.

Nigel drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“I really do wish the best to you.” He said, “I hope your job at the observatory goes well.”

“Thank you.” Adam said, “And thank you for the advice you gave me last night. I think you're right, and I will try to apply it in every day life.”

“I'm glad I could be useful to you.”

“You were.” Adam said, “I meant it when I said that you helped me get through the night, and that I would probably have panicked without you in that motel.”

“It's just that you never want to see me again?”

“I said that I don't know if I can date you.”

“Then call me as a friend.”

“We were never just friends.” Adam said, a sad smile tugging at his lips, “Even I know that.”

“But we could try.”

“I don't think it would work.” Adam said, “You _like_ like me, and I didn't kiss you back. And you said that you would like to put your hands around my throat and kiss me again. I don't think a person with feelings like that can be happy with 'just friends'.”

“I'm sorry I said that.” Nigel said, “It was too aggressive.”

Adam's lips parted as if to reply, but he remained silent. His eyes drifted off away from Nigel, over past his shoulder.

Nigel's cellphone began to ring from his pocket, and he pulled it to see that Ciprian was calling.

Nigel muttered a curse.

“I have to get this.” He said, “Stay there.”

Adam nodded.

Nigel walked a few feet away, and put the phone to his ear.

“What the fuck do you want?” He said without prelude.

“Just checking in to see how the flight went today, boss.”

“It went fucking fine. I'll call you if I want to give you an update.”

“You told me to call, boss.”

“Fuck what I told you.”

“Are you all right?”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? My fucking nurse?”

Ciprian backed off, letting a the buzz of static take over the line.

Nigel blew out a frustrated breath, and rubbed his fingertips against his forehead.

“The flight was fine.” He said, after several moments, “No problems. I'll get a taxi to the apartment. If I don't call before this evening, everything is fine.”

“All right, then.” Ciprian said, “Talk to you tonight?”

“Yes.”

Nigel hung up without waiting for Ciprian's reply. Shoving the phone in his pocket, he grabbed his suitcase, and turned back to the exit.

Nigel's heart dropped.

The splash of bright pink hoodie in the sea of travelers was gone. Adam's curls and bright blue eyes were nowhere to be seen. In the place he had was stood was aching emptiness that only Nigel could see; everyone else just saw the boring pattern of the carpet, and a place where thousands of people had tread.

“No, no.”

Nigel tore past the mundane pace of other passengers, and out the exit doors of the airport. He broke out onto the sidewalk where dozens of cars were parked to pick up passengers, and people were hugging and kissing in jubilant reunion.

Hands tangled in his hair, Nigel searched up and down the sidewalk for Adam. But Adam was nowhere to be seen.

He was gone for good. No goodbye. No consolation. He was just gone, as if their chance meeting and evening together had never happened. Like the tiny stars up in space, they were moving apart at the speed of light, toward the impending darkness, toward the vast, cold, and lonely emptiness of the great beyond.

 


	6. All Alone In The Great Beyond

The drive between the Los Angeles airport and Adam's new apartment took less than an hour in light, afternoon traffic. Adam had read all he could about Los Angeles, but photos and descriptions on the internet couldn't match watching the sights speed past just outside the window.

The sky gleamed clear blue, and the blinding globe of the sun beat down at a muggy eighty-five degrees, plus humidity. Everywhere Adam looked, stands of palm trees and other hardy plants were nestled in the landscaping in front of buildings and along the sidewalks.

Adam took some photos with his phone before lapsing back against the seat to watch the scenery fly by. He took his coat off, and rolled up his sleeves to fight the heat.

“Not from around here, are ya?” The cab driver asked, glancing in the rear view mirror.

“I, uh … no.”

“You might consider supplementing your wardrobe with lighter clothes.”

“Okay.”

The cabbie seemed to understand that Adam wasn't interested in conversation. He lit a cigarette while he drove, and tapped the ashes out the window.

Adam's nose curled at the thick, smoky scent. It brought Nigel to his mind when he would have rather put last night as far from his mind as possible. Decision making wasn't his strong suit, but he was sure he'd made the right decision by leaving Nigel behind.

When the taxi rolled up in front of the apartment complex Adam would be living at, Adam gave the driver his money and stepped out of the backseat of the car. The cabbie popped the trunk, and waited for Adam to remove his suitcases and slam the trunk shut before speeding off down the road.

Adam was left standing at the curb with his suitcases, looking up an down the unfamiliar street with mounting dread.

He fished in his pocket for his to-do list that Harlan had helped him write out the week before.

He had to go talk to the manager of the apartment complex and acquire the keys. Tomorrow, he would meet the moving truck that contained all of his furniture. The apartment was furnished with appliances, but he would have to do his own shopping. In a few days, he would begin his new job

Adam dragged a hand over his face, and sucked in a deep breath He felt as if everything was piling on top of him at once, and he couldn't possibly remain focused and determined enough to get it all done. But he had to; there was no going back now.

Picking up his suitcases, Adam followed the signs to the manager's office.

The sign read open. He eased the door open a crack, and peeked inside to see a messy desk covered in papers and folders, and a short, pudgy man with thick glasses crouched behind the computer.

“Hello?” Adam said.

The man looked up from his computer, and motioned for Adam to come in.

Adam dragged his suitcases into the building, and pushed the door shut behind him.

“Hello. I'm Adam.” He said, “I'm supposed to move into apartment 359.”

“I see. Take a seat.”

Adam sat down on the edge the chair across from the desk. His hands fidgeted in his lap; one of his stim toys would have helped.

“All right.” The man said, turning from his computer. “What's the last name?”

“Raki.”

The manager pulled out one of the drawers, and flipped through the folders, muttering “Raki” under his breath.

“Ahh.” He announced, pulling a folder out of the drawer. “Here we go. Raki.”

He slid the folder across the desk to Adam, and offered him a pen.

“I need you to read through the lease agreement and sign.” The manager said, “Since you've already put in your deposit, this is all I need you to do before I give you the keys.”

“Okay.” Adam said.

He took the folder, and read through the five page agreement. He wasn't sure if he disagreed with any of the statements, but it didn't matter anyway. He had put in a deposit, and he was moving his furniture in tomorrow.

Adam signed the bottom of the page, and handed the folder back to the manager.

“Okay, very good. I'll take you over to your apartment now.”

“Okay.”

The manager led the way down the sidewalk to one of the buildings situated farther away from the road. They entered through the front door, and climbed a flight of stairs to the hallway above. Adam labored with his suitcases, struggling to keep his carry-on bags over his shoulders while also heaving his larger two pieces of luggage up the flight of stairs.

While the manager walked ahead to the apartment, Adam paused at the top of the stairs to catch his breath.

He hadn't quite made it down the hallway before the manager had gotten the door unlocked, and was walking back toward Adam with the key.

As they passed, he handed the keys off to Adam.

“Thank you.” Adam said.

The manager grunted a reply, and shouldered his way past Adam to jog back down the stairs.

Holding the keys in his fist, Adam approached the open door of his apartment. The living space and kitchen took up the front section of the apartment, the two halves split by carpet and tile and the wrap-around kitchen counter top.

Adam left his bags in the living room, and wandered through the kitchen and into the hallway. The hallway had two doors, one to the bathroom, and one to the bedroom.

Adam's gaze scanned the small area, the bland carpet and paint, brightening when they came to rest on the sliding glass door that led out to a small balcony.

Rushing across the room, Adam pushed the sliding door open and stepped out onto the balcony. The view from the back of the building showed Adam a beautiful view of the mountains beyond, a surreal blue sky, and somewhere beyond, the stars. Adam bit back a grin as he imagined taking his telescope out here to look at the universe above them.

Adam's joy didn't last long.

After being in the apartment for less than ten minutes, Adam began to notice the unfamiliarity of the rooms, the distinct sense of not belonging, and the chaotic whisper of the future in his ear. He had no furniture, and only a handful of possessions that were packed in his suitcases. He had tried to fit his telescope in one of his suitcases, but not only was it too long to fit, it also was too heavy to meet the weight restrictions for flying.

If only he had that one lifeline, he might have felt secure.

Adam pulled his to-do list out of his pocket, and skimmed it, looking for a sense of direction. There wasn't much left to do.

He unzipped his suitcases, and pulled out the air mattress and compact air compressor. Unfolding the mattress, he took half an hour blowing it up, pressing on it, laying on it, and releasing some of the air to make it the exact right firmness. With the mattress blown up to his liking, he dressed it with the set of bed sheets he had brought with him, and a small pillow.

He laid down on the mattress, and stared at the ceiling. He couldn't imagine falling asleep on the uneven mattress, in this unfamiliar place.

Flustered, Adam got up from the mattress, and searched in his suitcases for a new distraction. He took all of his toiletries into the bathroom, and arranged them on the counter and in the medicine cabinet.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and paused to stare back at his wide eyes and stiff lips.

_This is your life now._

The thought made him sick to his stomach, but he squeezed his eyes shut against the blowback of terror that rolled up his spine.

_Do it for Dad. Remember, Harlan said Dad would be proud._

Harlan.

Adam back out into the living room, and searched through his hoodie to find his cellphone in the pocket. He ignored the presence of the pink hoodie that fairly pulsated with memories of the airport, of Nigel.

Adam dialed Harlan's number, and sat down on the floor with his knees against his chest. His palm rubbed anxiously against the hard, rounded bone of his knee while the phone rang and rang.

Adam let out a frustrated groan as the voicemail picked up.

_This is Harlan. Leave a message._

Adam threw the phone at the carpet, and dropped his forehead against his knees. He rocked back and forth, fingers lacing through his hair and tugging hard. A moan built in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it back.

His hand slipped out of his hair, and fell against his knee, drawing his gaze to the numbers written across his skin in black ink.

Adam blinked, forcing a tear past his eyelid and down his cheek.

_Nigel._

Adam squeezed his eyes shut against the notion of calling him.

_Nigel, gruff and coarse, swearing and whispering gently in the same sentence. Both hard and soft, his fingers wrapping around the smaller bones of Adam's hand, his eyes like fire, his mouth tasting of smoke, his tongue pressing wet and velvet against the clench of Adam's lips. The pulse of his erection demanding against Adam's thigh, taking all the breath from Adam's lungs, all the logic and fear from his brain …_

Adam's eyes jarred open. A strange, warm feeling swirled low in his belly, followed by an twinge and an ache lower … between his legs. He'd felt this way before, once or twice with Beth.

Revolted, Adam jumped up to his feet and paced across the carpet as if he could leave the thoughts on the floor behind him.

“Stop, stop.” Adam whispered to himself, pressing a hand against his forehead, “Stop it, Adam.”

The verbalized warning didn't block the thought of calling Nigel from his brain. He had to find a different distraction.

Adam marched back to his bags, and pulled his laptop out of it's case.

He sat down Indian style on the air mattress while he powered on the laptop. While the laptop booted up, he dragged his suitcase up next to the mattress, and pawed through it to find the small collection of books he had brought with him. The rest would be arriving with the movers tomorrow, but these few were enough to keep him occupied.

Opening up one of the textbooks, he skimmed the table of contents for several moments in search of an interesting topic.

It wasn't difficult for Adam to get lost in research and topics that related to space. Even if something else was bothering, his special interest took him beyond this moment and out into the universe where none of it mattered.

After reading in the textbook and opening a dozen tabs on his browser, Adam looked up three hours later to realize that afternoon and it had been seven hours since breakfast. A loud grumble and a sharp pang of hunger urged him to go find dinner, but he didn't have any food in the house.

Consulting his list, Adam realized with a groan that he was supposed to have gone shopping this evening. The thought of going out without someone to help him stay focused and organized, and talk to strangers in the grocery store made every muscle in his body go tense.

Adam considered half a dozen strategies before going online to find the nearest pizza parlor that would deliver. Staying in the house, away from unfamiliar places and strange people was more comforting than even his favorite meal of macaroni and cheese, chicken, and green beans.

When the pizza arrived, he spent the rest of his evening focused on his laptop and the stars. It was the only thing that felt safe.

 

~  
  


Nigel asked the taxi driver to stop at a gas station so that he could purchase a pack of cigarettes. He bought a bulk package of cigarettes and a twelve-pack of beer, and marched back to the waiting taxi with his bags tucked securely under his arm.

He predicted the next few days would be filled with concerns about the business back in Romania, boredom, and disappointed thoughts of Adam. He would blaze through one pack of cigarettes in less than a day; the bulk package was the smart choice.

When Nigel climbed back into the car, the taxi driver requested his address.

Nigel consulted his phone, and read the address aloud, hoping the cabbie would know where he was going.

“Ah, Beverly Hills.” The driver said, “You don't look like the Hollywood type, if you don't mind me saying.”

“I'm not.” Nigel said, “And I'm not really interested in a conversation, if you don't mind.”

“No problem, no problem.”

Nigel slouched down in the backseat of the cab as the driver took them out onto the highway, in the direction of the hills. He tore open the cigarettes, and pressed one between his lips. Rolling down a window, he smoked and let the ashes drift out into the thick, humid air.

 _Beverly Fucking Hills_.

He was going to be rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous when really all he fucking wanted was to be left the hell alone. Money didn't entice him as long as he had everything he needed, and enough to purchase cigarettes, beer, and a hit of coke every once in awhile when he felt like getting out of his head. He couldn't be any more different from the people he was about to become neighbors with. Stranger in a strange land, aching for home.

Nigel thought about calling up Ciprian and cussing that idiot out for placing him in such a nice, uppity neighborhood. But he didn't feel like hearing Ciprian's voice, even if it was to cuss him out. Nigel just wanted his cigarettes, a ice cold beer, a warm body next to him. He could get all of those things except one – the one he had the deepest ache for.

Fucking Christ. He was a mess. When the hell had he ever needed someone else to make him feel satisfied, comfortable? When the hell had he ever hated being alone so much? He'd been alone since he was a kid, living on the streets, and he hadn't cried about it since the first time he'd realized life wasn't kind or fair, even to helpless orphans.

It was as if the whole heart-shattering end of he and Gabi's relationship had caused a tectonic shift down to the core of his soul. He didn't feel the same. He didn't feel so angry, so driven, so powerful, so confident as he once had. No, the gap in his chest that had been widening since childhood, since the loss of his innocence at far too young, had suddenly split wide open and dropped him all the way to rock bottom without notice.

_She fucking cut me off at the ankles. Fucking bitch._

The thought stung, but he pressed on.

_You're better off without that bitch. Just fucking forget that you ever gave her the time of day. She didn't fucking deserve it. She's getting what she really deserves with someone who will never give her what I did, someone who will never be as fucking good as me. It's her fucking loss, not yours._

The incensed ranting echoed hollow and empty through the dome of his skull. They were tasteless and ghostly phantoms darting through his mind, hardly touching down long enough for him to grasp their impression, their truth.

“Here we are, sir.”

Nigel's eyes opened to see that the driver had pulled up to the curb in front of a two-story house with a flat, red clay shingled roof, stucco walls, arched windows, and a three car garage. Nigel wondered what the hell he was supposed to do with a three car garage.

“Thanks.” He said.

He threw the money over the front seat, and yanked his bags out of the car after him. Juggling his bags over one shoulder and on the ground behind him, and his cigarettes and beer with the other, he trudged up the walkway to the front door.

He set his cigarettes and beer down to unlock the front door, and dragged everything inside behind him with a string of muttered curses at his lack of another hand to manage this belongings with. He left his bags in the entryway and wandered down the hallway to the living area and kitchen. The house was furnished with minimalist, tasteful décor, modern furniture, and a plasma TV. A sprawling kitchen offered a row of bar stools against the wrap-around, granite countertop, an island in the center, a range oven, and a massive, stainless steel vent hood. Rows of pots and pans hung above the counter, as if Nigel would be brushing up on his cooking skills while he ran from his enemies in Romania.

Nigel sneered at the gratuitous affects of lavish living and too much money. He would have been happy with a single room flat over-looking downtown Los Angeles, a bed, and enough food to last him the week. Instead, he got all of these pointless possessions and a refrigerator overflowing with food that he would never be able to eat by himself before it expired.

Nigel shoved his case of beer onto one of the shelves in the fridge, and went back to the front door to retrieve his bags. When he reached the second level, he muttered a curse of disbelief at the realization that he had not two, but three bedrooms to choose from.

He picked the bedroom nearest to the staircase, and threw all of his bags on the floor without a single thought of putting his possessions in the closets and on the shelves where they belonged.

Dragging his laptop out of his bag, he flopped down on the bed, lit another cigarette, and opened his browser.

His fingers twitched over the keyboard.

He should have been calling Ciprian, checking on the state of his affairs, being productive. Instead, he switched on incognito mode and typed his favorite porn site into the search bar.

His go-to was young girls in rough sex or gangbang situations. They had to be young enough to have nice, natural breasts, but not old enough to appear experienced. He was nit-picky, and tended to go to the same videos over and over again; but tonight, none of his usual golden tickets aroused or even interested him.

He curled his hand into a fist for a moment before holding his breath and typing in a new search.

He filtered through several videos before choosing one that looked promising.

The young man had thick, curly brown hair, and wide, blue eyes. His skin was pale, the blush on his cheeks standing out bright and pink. He was tied down, being fucked within an inch of his life by a much older man.

Nigel pursed his cigarette between his lips as he thumbed open the button and zipper of his jeans. He grunted, spilling a stream of smoke past his lips as he pushed his boxers down just far enough to reach his rapidly hardening cock.

His hand stroked eager and rough against his cock as the vulgar, high-pitched sounds of the boy in the video filled his head. His eyes cracked open to watch as the top rolled the boy over and, positioned him with his ass raised. The man's huge cock drove back in, causing the boy to stiffen and moan with every thrust.

Nigel moaned, nearly dropping his cigarette from his lips as the pleasure spiked low in his belly. Ashes broke off from the tip of the cigarette and fell to his chest, burning like tiny needles through his flesh.

He grabbed the cigarette from his mouth, and clutched it between his fingers. His body shook as his hand quickened, dragging the pleasure to him harder and faster as the sounds of the raw fucking from the video intensified.

Nigel's eyes slammed shut, cutting off the images and replacing them with his own fantasies. He thought about the evening in the hotel, when he had kissed Adam. In his fantasy, Adam didn't push him off. He pressed closer, clinging and moaning for Nigel to fuck him.

So Nigel did. He ripped Adam's clothes off, and pressed his fingers into Adam's sweet, tight hole, stroking him open until Adam was shivering, moaning, gaping for him. Nigel fucked into him, fingers tangled in Adam's hair and pressing his face into the sheets, other hand clutching Adam's hip to keep his ass raised against Nigel's hammering thrusts.

Adam was whimpering underneath him, fingers clawing at the sheets. He was panting Nigel's name between exclamations of pleasure. His hole was clenching tight around Nigel's cock, all but milking the pleasure straight out of him.

“Fuck.” Nigel's moan punctuated the air.

Cum spilled in hot spurts from the tip of his cock, dappling his belly and dripping down his heaving ribcage. The pleasure surged hot and fast through his body, pulling his hips taut against the drive of his hand, and sparking fireworks behind his eyes.

When he sank to the sheets, spent and breathing hard, he opened his eyes to see that the video had ended. A row of suggested videos on the sidebar beckoned him, but he closed his eyes against the instant nausea that struck his belly.

The release was still drying on his hand as he felt the weight of his thoughts and the contradiction of his claims to Adam settle on his shoulders.

_I don't just want to fuck you._

That's what he fucking said. And here he fucking was...

_What, now I've got a fucking conscience?_

Nigel took his t-shirt off and used it as a rag to wipe off his hand and stomach. He was still muttering a disgusted curse at himself as he sucked on his cigarette, and exited the porn website.

He'd never felt bad about getting off at someone else's expense, especially someone who had walked away without even a 'goodbye'. Obviously Adam didn't respect him, so why should Nigel respect Adam? It was a good fucking question that would have normally ended the argument going on in Nigel's head. Tonight, he couldn't shake the dirty feeling; couldn't shake the idea that he felt emptier and lonelier now than ever before.

Nigel got up from the bed, and walked down the hallway to investigate the rest of the house. He tried to put all thought of Adam from his head as he looked into each lavishly furnished room. He walked downstairs to try out the couch and the TV.

Cable and internet were all connected, offering him thousands of distractions.

He grabbed a beer and another pack of cigarettes from the kitchen, and sat down on the couch to find an interesting program.

On the History channel, a documentary about the Apollo mission was playing. Images of the galaxies and the Milky Way splashed across the screen to the methodical, honeyed lull of a British narrator's voice.

Nigel muttered a curse. He couldn't escape Adam Fucking Raki even if he tried.

Nigel sipped on his beer, and lit another cigarette. He watched the fucking space documentary with a bland expression of disinterest, too depressed to change the channel, too invested to let go of this one last reminder of Adam.

 

~

 

Adam slept fitfully on the air mattress, and woke earlier than usual. Weary with rolling around and trying to get comfortable, he got up and ate the last of the pizza for breakfast.

He took a shower, got dressed, combed his hair, and looked at the clock expectantly. The movers would be arriving at noon to help him get all of his furniture in the apartment and arranged. He was eager to have his bed, his couch, desk, his TV, and most of all, his telescope.

While he was waiting, his cellphone began to ring. It was Harlan.

“Harlan, hi.”

“Hey, Adam. I saw I missed your calls last night. I'm sorry. I was at work.” Harlan said.

“It's okay.” Adam said, “I made it through the night.”

“You sound chipper.”

“I feel better than expected. I did not sleep very good, but I am glad that the movers are coming with my telescope.”

“Of course.” Harlan chuckled.

“There is a wonderful view from the balcony.” Adam said, “I can't wait to look at the stars from there.”

“Did you do everything on your list?” Harlan asked.

Adam bit his lower lip.

“Adam.” Harlan repeated in a gently chiding tone.

“I didn't go to the store.” Adam admitted, “I couldn't, Harlan. I'm sorry. Just the thought of going out in a place I don't know, and a store I don't know, and people I don't know-”

“It's okay, calm down.” Harlan said, “You can do it today.”

“I don't know-”

“Adam, you must go shopping at some point.” Harlan said, “You can't go without food.”

“I know, I just ...”

“I'll help you make your shopping list.” Harlan said, “But I can't physically be there to help you go and do it. You have to do it yourself.”

“I know.”

“So what did you eat last night?”

“I ordered a pizza.”

“Adam, please, don't do that for the rest of the week.” Harlan said, “It isn't healthy, and it costs too much money. Do you have that budget sheet I made up for you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, pizza delivery isn't figured into the budget.”

“I know. I won't do it again.”

“Good.” Harlan said. There was a hum of silence of the line before Harlan uttered a sigh. “Adam, are you doing okay? I mean, are you happy with your decision?”

“Yes.” Adam murmured, “This is what I have to do. It's just hard.”

“Moving to a new place and getting a new job is always hard. Everyone has been there. You just have to keep going, trusting that it will get easier with each day.”

“Not everyone has it as hard as me.”

“Kid, I'm going to give you some tough love.” Harlan said, “Are you ready?”

“I suppose.”

“You can't feel sorry for yourself.” Harlan said, “You were born with a disability, yes, but your father did everything he could to raise you so that you could have a just as fulfilling life as everyone else. He taught you hard work, and smart thinking. He poured everything into you.”

“I know...”

“You've just gotta keep on keeping on.” Harlan said, “Besides all of that, you made this decision. Now you have to stick with it, even if it is hard.”

“I know all of this.” Adam said, “It's just ...”

“Just what?”

Adam toyed rubbed at the hem of his sleeve, his eyes focusing on the tiny stitching along the edge of the fabric.

“Adam?” Harlan urged, “Is there something you're not telling me?”

“I met someone.” Adam blurted, “Someone at the airport.”

“Met someone?”

“Yes. He helped me write a new to-do list, and calm down when the flight was canceled. He was really nice, but I told him I didn't want to see him again and-”

“Hold on, hold on.” Harlan interrupted, “Who is this person you're talking about?”

“His name was Nigel. He was on the flight to Los Angeles too. He sat down next to me, and we started talking.”

“You made a friend?”

Adam pursed his lips. More than a friend.

“Why did you tell this person you didn't want to see him again?” Harlan asked.

“I just got scared.” Adam whispered, “I thought maybe he would realize all the worst things about me, and then not like me anymore. Like Beth did.”

“Oh … Adam.” Harlan whispered, “I'm sorry, son.”

“He gave me his phone number.” Adam said, “I washed it off my hand, but I wrote it down on a piece of paper. I think I should throw that away too.”

“You should give him a chance.” Harlan said, “You're a really nice, smart guy Adam. Not everyone is like Beth. And besides, Beth had make a choice concerning her parents. It wasn't just about you.”

“But it was.” Adam whispered, tears pressing hot to his eyelids, “I got mad at her, and I scared her away. Her parents being there was just a good excuse to dump me.”

“I'm sure that's not true ...”

“I know it was.” Adam said, fiercely, “She couldn't stand the ugly parts about me. She called me a child, and ...”

“Nobody is perfect.” Harlan said, “Not me, not Beth, not you. But we're all working on it, right? You're working on your temper.”

“Yes.” Adam whispered.

“You're working on being on your own, and figuring out adult life. It's hard. It takes time.”

“It's really, really hard.” Adam said, sniffing back tears, “I didn't think it would be this hard.”

“It's tough. You need friends.” Harlan said, “You should call your friend from the airport back.”

“Maybe.”

“What's the hold-up?”

_He wants to kiss me._

“Nothing, I'm just afraid he won't like everything about me, like Beth.”

“Well, think about it.” Harlan said, “I'm a little worried about you, out there by yourself. You could use a friend or two.”

“I've got you.”

“Someone to be there with you. I can only do so much from Manhattan.”

“You do a lot. You listen to me.”

“I'm glad to do it.”

Adam jumped when a loud knocking on the door interrupted the conversation. He ran to the door, and pressed his face to the peep hole to see a man standing on the other side, and a moving truck parked in the lot behind him.

“Harlan, I have to go. The movers are here.” Adam said.

“All right.” Harlan said, “You call me back about that shopping list, all right?”

“I will try to remember.”

“Do it.”

“Okay. Thank you, Harlan. Bye.”

Adam hung up and opened the door to the movers.

While the movers started taking furniture inside, the first thing Adam ran to the truck to find was the case carrying his telescope.

 

~

Adam had his morning routine down in a few short days after getting all of his belongings moved into the house. With the apartment furnished with his furniture from back home in Manhattan, Adam felt a sense of ease begin to release the clutch of fear in his chest.

On the first evening after the movers arrived, he took his telescope onto the small balcony, and bent over it with his eye pressed to the lens until his neck and back began to ache. The sky was clearer here than in New York, with fewer buildings and factories to pollute the air; Adam could have stayed on the balcony, stargazing all evening, but it was bedtime.

On Monday, Adam woke to the beep of his alarm. He sat upright, fully alert and aware that today was the first day of his new job.

A familiar strain of anxiety ran through his chest. New surroundings, new job, new people. He would have to take it all in today without bursting.

Adam got up, and walked out to the kitchen to make breakfast. Sitting at the table with his bowl of cereal, he glanced at the piece of paper lying in the middle of the table. His first night in the apartment, he had gone to the bathroom and washed his hands, only to launch into a small panic attack when he realized the ink was washing off his skin. He ran to the kitchen, and scribbled down Nigel's phone number before it could wash away entirely.

As he considered his reaction to nearly losing Nigel's digits, Adam could only frown. He hadn't made a choice about whether or not to call Nigel, but now that he'd been here for several days without calling, he supposed that was a decision within itself. If he wasn't going to call, losing the numbers shouldn't have mattered.

Adam turned the paper over, and rubbed a hand over his face.

He and Nigel couldn't be more incompatible, but at the moment, he wished Nigel were here to give him more advice about starting his new job. Everything he'd said that evening in the hotel made a lot of sense, and had given Adam a boost of confidence he didn't normally have. Adam may not have reached Los Angeles and his new job without Nigel's urging. If nothing else, he had to thank the man for that one product of their evening together.

Adam finished preparing for work, and walked to the front door. Here, he paused, his limbs frozen at the thought of stepping beyond the apartment and into the great beyond.

He lowered his head, and sucked in a deep breath.

_Andromeda, Antila, Apus, Aquarius, Aquila … Come on, Adam, you can do this._

Adam grabbed the door knob, and ran out of the apartment before he could think about backing out of his first day on the job.

City transit populated the city with a myriad of lines to take people to work, school, grocery shopping, and wherever else they had a mind to go. It wasn't clean, and it was crowded – but it was all Adam had unless he wanted to walk several miles up the side of a mountain to the observatory.

He huddled in a seat next to the window with his backpack clutched against his chest. He wasn't sure what exactly to expect from his new job, so he had packed everything he thought he might need. The backpack was a good cover for his stim toys that he grudgingly admitted to himself he might need.

Being self-sufficient was a wonderful concept for someone like him who had difficulty meeting new people, making deadlines, remembering responsibilities, and staying focused. Some people went half their lives before realizing the reason they struggled from day to day was because they were undiagnosed aspies, but Adam had always had a hand to hold. Dad had been his foundation, his lifeline, the gentle, patient voice reminding him of all the things to do, or not to do.

Riding the transit, Adam was beginning to understand the fear and frustration of hundreds of other people like him who hadn't been blessed with a father like Adam's. Everything was spilling and rushing in a hundred different directions, like a bag of marbles had split open and it was his responsibility to catch every single one.

Adam put in his headphones to listen to his favorite music. He practiced a few breathing exercises, and closed his eyes to world around him.

He remembered what Nigel had said.

_Everything you've ever wanted is on the other side of fear._

Adam wanted this job to work out with a burning passion. He wanted to prove to himself that he could live on his own, and be successful without anyone else helping him.

He had to ignore that ingrained sense of self-preservation that Nigel had spoken about, and race headlong into the unknown danger. By himself. He had to remember everything that Nigel said in the hotel room that evening; it was the only reminder keep Adam was from running away.

The sound of the bus brakes squealing jarred Adam's eyes open. They were parked at Adam's stop.

Drawing in a deep breath, Adam gathered his bag and rose to his feet. He made his way down the aisle to the front of the bus, mumbling his apologies as he bumped into other people's elbows and knees. Stepping out of the bus into the warm, morning sunlight, he squinted down the road to see the sign for the observatory.

He swung his backpack over his shoulder, and started off down the sidewalk. When he reached the observatory, a group of people wearing nice shirts and ties and name tags were gathered in the parking lot awaiting the bus to the observatory.

The observatory was located at the top of a peak in the San Gabriel Mountains, at a point where trees and buildings couldn't block the telescopes' view to the stars. The building was barely visible from the street, but the massive, white dome peeked out from the tops of the trees.

Adam stood at the fringe of the group with his arms wrapped around himself. Staring at the ground, he didn't notice someone approaching until a voice jarred him from his thoughts.

“Hello … Hey, there, are you new?”

Adam lifted his head to see a young man with curly blond hair and glasses approaching him.

“Uh, hi … Yes, this is my first day.” Adam said.

“Wonderful. I'm Toby.” The young man said, extending his hand.

Adam shook Toby's hand, and relinquished his hand back to his waist.

“And you are?”

“Adam. Adam Raki.”

“Nice to meet you.” Toby said, “I can show you around, if you want. They'll be having orientation of course, but you'll a guide. It's a big observatory.”

“Uh, sure. Thanks.”

“Ah, here's the bus now.” Toby said.

A shuttle bus rolled down the hill toward them, and performed a tight U-turn in the parking lot to point back towards the observatory. The group of employees trudged to the bus with Adam and Toby at the tail end of the group.

Toby took them to a seat towards the middle of the bus, and slid into the window seat. Adam took his backpack off, and sat down next to Toby with the bag clutched in his lap.

The bus engine growled and jolted them forward, carrying them up the hill at a slow, rocking pace.

“So, what department are you working in?” Toby asked.

“Microcircuits.” Adam said, “For the telescopes.”

“I track anomalies in space.” Toby said, “We won't see much of each other after today, I suppose.”

Adam shrugged.

He wasn't looking to make friends, but it certainly was to his benefit that Toby would show him around.

Once the bus reached the top of the hill, the employees climbed off.

Adam tilted his head back to gaze in awe at the observatory. He was witnessing a part of history; two of the original, largest telescopes had been built here back in the beginning of the 1900's, just as space exploration was becoming possible. Edwin Hubble had made a number of revolutionary discoveries using one of the Hooker telescope, located here at Mount Wilson.

A smile stretched across Adam's mouth as he marched toward the observatory. A sense of joy and calm filled his chest; perhaps walking into the unknown wasn't so bad.

 

~

 

The longer Nigel was in Los Angeles, the more the days slipped past in a surreal, languid blur of lounging in bed, watching TV until his eyes burned, and finding tiny pockets of relief in reverting to his favorite porn videos. In a haze of smoke and stuffy air inside his locked up house, he dragged himself through every day of the weeks that passed him by without notice.

He only left the house for beer and cigarettes, and an occasional run for groceries when he got tired of ordering take-out. Pizza boxes, Chinese food containers, and beer cans filled up the garbage can until he found the motivation to take the overfilled bag out to the dumpster.

Ciprian called every week, sometimes more than once, to check up on him. He would give Nigel the update on how business was going, ask for advice, and mutter his goodbyes when Nigel told him to fuck off now.

He'd been in Los Angeles for four weeks – that he was counting – when, after getting his hands on a few ounces of cocaine, he woke from a weekend binge of snorting and drinking, to find that he had nothing in the house. No food. No cigarettes. No beer. No more crack.

He stumbled out of bed, his head spinning and pounding, and made his way down the hallway to the bathroom. Falling to his knees in front of the toilet, he wretched into the urine-smelling bowl of water. There was nothing in his stomach but beer.

When he was done throwing up, Nigel lay down against the cold tile, and stared at the bright overhead lights. Moisture trickled from the corners of his eyes, forced to the surface by the revolt of his stomach.

He didn't cry. Didn't make a sound. But he could feel the weight of his lonely, pathetic existence piling on top of his chest. He was broken and bleeding from dropping so far, from hitting rock bottom with nothing to break his fall.

Sober for the first time in weeks, he blinked at the recollection of meeting Adam in the airport. He hadn't thought of Adam since his first night in the house when he'd watched the space documentary and felt sorry for himself. Maybe that's what had gotten him here in the first place, puking his guts into the toilet, nose caked with powder, mouth tasting like garbage, skin itching with three day old sweat. Thinking about Adam. Thinking about falling in love all over again. Waiting for a call that never came.

He wanted to scream until his throat was raw, and his lungs were empty of air. He wanted to scream at the universe for screwing him over, and leaving him in this pathetic heap of hungover, aching flesh and bones. He wanted to scream, but couldn't make one sound.

Nigel laid on the floor of the bathroom for long moments, listening to the white noise of utter silence. When at last he picked himself up, he clung onto the edge of the counter to keep his tilting, aching head from dragging him back down to the tile.

Nigel staggered down the hallway to the living room, and leaned against the back of the couch to catch his breath. The room was a mess; furniture rearranged, empty plates, beer cans, pizza boxes, and a fine dusting of powder on the coffee table all screamed his worthlessness at him.

“Fuck.” Nigel muttered.

He hunted for his cellphone for ten minutes before finding it lodged between two couch cushions. He scanned through his texts and calls, relieved to see he hadn't done anything incredible stupid during his drug-induced haze.

Dialing Ciprian's number, Nigel fell back against the couch cushions and pressed a hand over his eyes.

“Hello?” Ciprian answered.

“It's Nigel.”

“Oh, um, I thought we didn't have a check-in for another few days.”

“We don't. This is for something special.”

“Special? What do you … Are you okay? You don't sound okay, boss.”

“I'm fucking sober.” Nigel said, “That's why I'm not fucking okay.”

Ciprian didn't reply, but Nigel could hear his thought process and judgments through the buzz of static on the line.

“I need you to find someone.” Nigel said.

“Oh … um, okay.”

“His name is Adam.” Nigel said, “Can't remember the last name, but I know he's living here in Los Angeles and that he works for the observatory.”

“What observatory?”

“Can't fucking remember that either. Mount something-or-other.”

“Okay.”

“Are you writing this down?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I want you to fucking find him, get me a phone number, address, and that's it. I don't want anyone calling him or contacting him. I just want to fucking know where he is, all right?”

“Okay, boss. Whatever you say.”

“How long will it fucking take?”

“A few days, maybe more.”

“Well, make it quick.” Nigel said.

“Boss, um … Can I ask … who is this person? If it's not for business then-”

“Just do what you're fucking told, all right?” Nigel growled, “Don't asking fucking questions, Ciprain. How long have you fucking worked for me, huh? You know not to question me when I give you a direct fucking order, you brainless fucker.”

“I'm sorry.” Ciprian muttered, “Christ, I'm sorry. I'll do it.”

“Good. Don't fucking interrogate me like I'm not your superior.”

“I won't.”

Nigel dragged the phone from his ear and ended the call with a stab of thumb. He had no more patience for Ciprian and his stupid fucking questions. He just wanted to fucking know where Adam was, even if he wasn't sure what he was going to do with the information.

Visit him? Call him? Beg for a meeting?

Nigel didn't fucking know, he just knew he wouldn't stay sober until he knew where Adam had run off to.

 

 


	7. Brass Knuckles, Bloody Noses

Weeks passed Adam by without his notice. After his first day at the observatory, his fears had fallen behind him. He got to spend every day at the observatory, nestled in the mountains, mind focused on the microcircuits before him. Every once in awhile, he sneaked up the observation deck, and looked through the giant lenses at the universe beyond.

When he came home, he cooked his dinner of macaroni and cheese, and watched videos on his laptop. Sometimes, if he felt like it, he opened his cabinet and picked out an X-rated DVD to watch.

Adam wasn't unaware of his sex drive. He had a lot of interest in sex, and had researched a lot about it. He knew all of the mechanics, and most of the kinks. But he had never tried most of them.

Actually performing was a whole other matter. When he and Beth had sex, he'd been afraid of being too rigid or detached. It was difficult for him to overcome his aversion to touch and intimacy. He was prone to overstimulation, which triggered panic attacks, which could make the other person mad, which would make him mad, which would end the whole thing, which would ….

It was much easier to enjoy sex by himself. He was very good at getting himself off, and after his experience with trying a serious relationship, he was happy with flying solo.

At least, that's what he'd told himself.

Alone in Los Angeles, with only his thoughts as company, his mind began to travel down deep, dark paths as it often did. Asking questions that didn't need answered. Thinking about things he'd promised himself he wouldn't.

He still had Nigel's number written on the piece of paper on his kitchen table. He hadn't moved it, though he'd considered putting it in a cabinet somewhere out of sight.

Every day he saw it, and every day he thought about picking up the phone. But the thought of making that call made his heart pound and his stomach churn. What if Nigel was angry that he hadn't called? What if he resented Adam for running away in the airport? What if Nigel had begun his new life and realized he didn't need someone like Adam holding him back?

There were a dozen reasons not to call. But the one thing that kept that piece of paper on the kitchen table and not in the cabinet or the trashcan, was that kiss. Nigel's insistence that he like _liked_ Adam.

Adam was curious about that kiss, and Nigel's attraction to him. It confused him. For the first time in his life, he considered what it would be like to have sex with another man. He knew things from the internet and DVD's, but he hadn't considered it in an enjoyable way before.

He couldn't deny the swirl of excitement in his belly when he thought about Nigel kissing him and touching him. Sometimes, at night, he laid in bed staring at the ceiling, and letting his mind wander to that evening in the hotel. He thought about the smell of Nigel's cologne, the rough texture of his calloused hands, the scratch of his stubble against Adam's skin, and the sweet and smoky taste of his mouth.

It made Adam get hard, but he didn't touch himself. And it didn't make him pick up the phone. If he was honest, it scared the hell out of him.

So he did what he always did when something that he didn't understand came into his life.

He got into his laptop, and began researching.

_How do I know if I like men?_

_How do I know if I'm gay?_

_Does having sexual thoughts about another man mean I'm gay?_

_I've had sex with women but I'm attracted the other men._

Much to Adam's horror, there was thousands of results to all of these searches, and most of them told him the exact opposite of what he wanted to hear.

He scrolled through Yahoo answers, biting his lip as all the the responses read as: _Yes, you're gay. If you're getting off thinking about man, you're probably gay or at least bisexual._

Adam scrubbed his hands over his face, and closed all the tabs at once. He wasn't sure if he was scared at the thought of being gay, or just scared at the thought of being attracted to someone he hadn't called in over four weeks.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do if he was gay, and liked Nigel.

If he called Nigel now, Nigel might be mad. But if he didn't call, these thoughts were going to drive him mad.

Adam didn't know what to do, so he did nothing. The answer came to him faster than expected.

 

~

 

Nigel sat at his kitchen table, smoking his third cigarette as he gazed at the email open on his laptop.

_Adam Raki_

_2353 Riverview Lane, Apt. 56 B._

_Eagle Rock, CA, 90041_

_Phone: 323-678-4569_

_Employment: Mount Wilson Observatory_

He took a drink of whiskey, and blew out a sigh.

He had all of Adam's information in front of him, including a photo to ensure the accuracy of Ciprian's research results. This was the right Adam. His Adam. Starman.

Nigel glanced at his cellphone. His fingers twitched around his cigarette, aching to dial the number and hear Adam's voice. What would he say?

_Hello, gorgeous. Remember me?_

Nigel grunted, and sucked on his cigarette.

He had no way of knowing if Adam would just hang up, or if he would tell Nigel to leave him alone, or if he would say, _Yes, I remember you. I'm sorry I didn't call you. Please, come over so we can catch up._

That last option was the least likely.

Nigel had been alive and in the game long enough to know that if someone didn't call you back, they probably weren't interested in pursuing the relationship. Hell, Nigel had gotten dozens of phone numbers that he never called after a one-night stand. It was his fucking M.O. to get his rocks off and then run for the hills. Relationships weren't his thing; the last time he'd convinced himself they were, he'd gotten dumped hard and shot in the fucking head.

 _This is a bad fucking idea._ He told himself.

Nigel slammed the lid of the computer shut, and rose from the chair to prowl the kitchen like a caged animal. He took a long drag of his cigarette, and leaned against the sink.

_Shoulda never looked for him. Shoulda never given yourself this option. You stupid fucking blunt idiot._

Nigel tossed the disintegrating stub of his cigarette into the sink, and marched out of the kitchen.

He wouldn't make that call. He wasn't that person. He wasn't that pathetic.

 

~

 

Nigel had Adam's information in his possession for only two weeks when he was lounging on his couch one evening, drinking whiskey shots and smoking, and a knock on his front door jarred him from his dour introspection.

Nigel sat upright on the couch, his ears straining. His head sloshed with alcohol, but he was alert enough to realize a knock on his door was reason to be cautious.

He'd lived here for over month with no visitors. He knew no one in the United States. There was no reason for someone to be at his doorstep.

The knock came again, more persistently.

Nigel rose from the couch, steadying himself against the arm as the room spun in a drunken haze. Shit. He wasn't sober enough for this.

Nigel made his way slowly down the hallway to the entry, his eyes narrowed and focused on the door. His chest was burning with alcohol, and his fingertips were shaking. Everything was a tilting, fuzzy haze.

Reaching the door, Nigel leaned against the handle and pressed his eye to the peephole.

Three men in what appeared to be maintenance uniforms stood on the doorstep. One of them was holding a toolbox.

Nigel closed his eyes briefly.

He cracked the door open two inches, and peeked out.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, sir, your address is on our roster for maintenance,” One of the men said. “May we come in?”

“I didn't call for maintenance.” Nigel said.

“It would have been your landlord calling, sir.”

“The house is fine.” Nigel said, “There's been some mistake.”

“Sir, you have to let us in.” The man said.

Nigel squinted at them. The man had an accent, and just above his collar peeked the swirl of a tattoo. He was no fucking maintenance guy.

Their eyes met, realization sparking between them.

Just as Nigel moved to slam the door shut, the man lunged forward, throwing his shoulder into the door.

Nigel spun and ran for the stairs, his head tilting and spinning and threatening to drive him to the floor. He didn't look back as he clambered up the stairs, but he could hear the three men shouting and breaking in past the door.

Panting and blinking back waves of nausea, Nigel reached the top of the stairs, and staggered around the corner to the hallway. He leaned against the wall to keep himself upright as he made his way down the dark hall to his bedroom.

Behind him, feet pounded on the stairs.

Casting a glance back, Nigel saw the three men coming around the corner into the hallway. The leader had pulled out a gun, and was marching in determined strides down the hallway toward Nigel.

Nigel ducked into his bedroom, and slammed the door shut. The bedroom door had no lock on it, much to his frustration. Glancing wildly around the room, he grabbed the chair from the desk, and wedged it underneath the door handle.

He took a stumbling step backwards as the door rattled with the weight of the man on the other side. The entire door jolted and bowed inward, threatening to buckle.

Nigel ran to the nightstand, and yanked the drawer open. Pulling out the gun hidden there, he popped out the clip, and checked for bullets. Loaded. He flipped off the safety.

His hands sweated and trembled as he planted his feet, and brought the gun to bear on the door. His head was swimming with alcohol, but not enough to dull the realization that even armed, he was not a match for three trained heavies.

Nigel swore under his breath, and flexed his fingers around the butt of the gun.

The chair wedged under the doorknob trembled and slid across the carpet with every blow from the other side. A huge splinter cracked along the middle of the door under the pressure, but withstood another four blows before silence settled on the house.

Nigel's shallow breaths rustled loud in the silence. His ears rang, straining for any sound coming from the hallway. All he could make out was hushed whispers.

Sweat trickled down his temple and itched between his shoulder blades. The gun felt heavy and cumbersome in his hands. With his stomach churning and his head pounding, he wanted to collapse. The adrenaline was making him weak and shaky; he could barely hold the gun steady.

_Bang!_

The silence shattered as, without prelude, the men on the other side resumed their attempts to break through the door.

The chair legs skidded against the carpet, and with one final blow, the chair flew across the room.

Nigel backed away from the door, holding his arms taut in front of him and his finger tight around the trigger.

The door flew inward, doorknob slamming against the wall. The three men charged through the open doorway, faces twisted with anger and determination.

Nigel squeezed the trigger without thought, his eyes slamming shut against the buck of the weapon and the deafening blasts in the confined space.

It was a matter of seconds before a body slammed into his, driving him to the ground.

Nigel's eyes flew open as he hit the carpet with a thud, and a pair of hands wrapped around his wrist, twisting the gun away.

The leader of the pack was on top of him, fighting him for the gun with both hands wrapped around Nigel's wrist. He pinned Nigel's arm to the carpet, and grabbed for the gun. The weapon went off again, firing into the wall and blasting a hole through the drywall. The sound was deafening, ricocheting pain through Nigel's ears and into his aching head.

The other two joined the struggle, one of them pummeling Nigel in the ribs, the other wrenching the gun out of his hand. Nigel growled in pain as a huge, meaty fist met with his ribs over and over again, driving the air out of his lungs.

They ripped the gun out of his hand, and he was left lying underneath the leader, gasping and struggling in vain.

“All right, get him up.” The leader said.

He rose from on top of Nigel, and stood back as the other two grabbed Nigel by the arms and pulled him to his feet.

Nigel struggled against them, throwing his shoulders into their chests in a futile attempt to wrench his arms free of their iron grips.

The leader took a charging step forward, and swung his fist like a sledgehammer into Nigel's stomach.

Pain erupted through Nigel's belly and chest as all the air was driven from his lungs. He doubled over, gasping for breath and wheezing in pain. Stars burst behind his eyelids, and his throat burned with bile.

“You stop.” The man said, grabbing Nigel by the hair and yanking his head back. “You're in the game, so you know how this goes. This will all be over in just a moment, so you might as well take it like a man.”

“I left.” Nigel gasped, “Tell your boss he doesn't have to do this.”

“Oh, but I'm afraid we do.” The man said with a chuckle. “You see, Darko knows you, Nigel. You used to do business together, so he knows all your tricks.”

“Darko sent you?” Nigel whispered.

“You double-crossed him, you stupid son of a bitch.” The man said, “Did you think there wouldn't be consequences?”  
“It was just business.”

“And this is how business goes.”

The man reached into his pocket, and pulled out glinting pair of brass knuckles.

Nigel bit back a moan. Digging his feet into the carpet, he threw all of his weight against the two men holding them. His mind was racing with frenzied panic, his instinct to escape taking over any logical reasoning his years of experience had taught him.

“Hold him.” The leader barked.

Gripping Nigel by the shoulders, the two thugs forced him down to his knees. One of the men grabbed him by the hair, and yanked his head back to create a clear target for the leader.

The leader slipped the brass knuckles onto his fingers, and flexed his hand around the small but deadly weapon.

Nigel locked his jaw, his nostrils flaring in a defiant breath as the man approached with his fist cocked back. He glared into the man's eyes, pouring all his strength into the rebellious gaze.

He wasn't going to be that pathetic man whimpering and begging for mercy. He'd taken enough beatings in his life to know he'd live. It would hurt like a motherfucker, but he'd survive. What he couldn't handle was losing his dignity to a couple of thugs.

The first strike slammed across his jaw with the weight of hammer. Pain exploded through his jaw and bloomed across his entire skull, white-hot and sharp. The brass knuckles hit bone-deep, rattling through his head and tearing open flesh immediately.

Nigel's head swung back, and then forward as he spewed a stream of blood at the man's feet.

The man chuckled, and shook his head. He cocked his arm back, letting it rest there for a long, threatening moment before driving his arm down toward Nigel's leering face.

The brass knuckles bounced across his cheekbone, splitting open flesh and slashing pain through his face.

Nigel swallowed back a moan, and lifted his chin.

“Is that all you got?” He muttered, his voice slurred and garbled with a mouthful of blood.

The man smacked the other henchman's hand away from Nigel's hair, and took Nigel by the crown.

“You won't be so ballsy when I'm done with you, boy.” He hissed, breathing tobacco tainted breath hot across Nigel's face.

Nigel's nose curled in contempt, but he let his glare do the talking.

The man straightened, and yanked Nigel's head into position. He cocked his fist back.

Nigel closed his eyes, bracing for the impact.

The slug pounded across Nigel's chin, jarring his jaw to the side, and opening Nigel's lip at the corner of his mouth. Blood poured down his chin, hot and fresh and tasting of copper.

Nigel's head lolled, pain and alcohol mixing to spin his head toward the encroaching darkness of unconsciousness.

The man slapped his cheek.

“Where you going, Nigel?” The man hissed, “You're don't want to miss this, baby.”

He punched Nigel again in the stomach, burying his fist between Nigel's ribs, forcing the air again from his lungs. Nigel gasped and choked on blood. He spit on the carpet, spattering the fine, pale color with a mouthful of blood.

“Just do it.” Nigel panted, casting him despising glance.

“But I'm enjoying myself.” The man said, spreading his arms, “I've been working for Darko a long time. I've seen you in the club, walking around like you own the place, telling everyone else what to do. Now fucking look at you. You're pathetic, sweetheart.”

“Come on, you stupid fucker.” Nigel growled, “You're going to talk me to death. Just fucking hit me already.”

A flush of anger rose up the man's throat and cheeks, and his eyes sparked with rage.

 _Good for you._ Nigel thought.

He put his head back and closed his eyes as the beating resumed.

The strikes came punishing and consistent, jarring him to the bone, cracking open flesh and pounding across raw wounds. They came until his face was numb with pain, and he couldn't see with his eyelids swelling up and the blood dripping into his eyes. They came until he thought he could feel the brass knuckles against bare bone, and his mouth was full of blood. They came until he could feel the stabbing pain of every breath against his battered ribs, and the shallow inhale of his lungs rattled against the delicate state of belly.

When they were done, they dropped him unceremoniously on the carpet.

Nigel heard the click of a camera shutter. Evidence that they'd done the job correctly.

The leader knelt down next to him, and pressed his gun under Nigel's chin.

“That was the first part of the message, Nigel. The second part is this – Darko says never come back to Romania. _Ever._ Don't even think of trying to rebuild your trade there. Don't think of retaliating. If you try anything, we will kill you. We've found you once, Nigel, and we'll do it again. No matter where you go, we will find you. And if you try to sell one ounce of coke on our streets, they're gonna find you facedown in a gutter. Got it?”

Nigel grunted, his eyelids fluttering against unconsciousness.

“I think … I think I do.” He whispered.

“Good. Don't ever fucking forget it.”

Nigel let his head fall back against the carpet as the man rose to his feet, and motioned for the other two to follow him. They left the bedroom, and Nigel listened to their footfalls down the stairs, through the entryway, and out the front door. Outside, an engine started. The house faded into silence as the vehicle carrying the three men took off down the street.

Nigel laid against the carpet, barely moving for several long minutes.

Moving one finger hurt. Just breathing hurt. Every part of his face and ribs screamed in pain. He was soaking blood into the carpet.

Nigel wasn't sure how long he laid still for until he told himself to get the fuck up.

_It's not that bad. Get your fucking ass off the floor._

Nigel grunted, and bit back a howl of pain as he forced himself to sit upright. Rolling onto his hands and knees, he drew in a deep breath and steadied himself. Blood dripped from his mouth and landed in thick, red spots on the floor. He could barely see around his swollen eyes and the blood trickling down his forehead.

Nigel got one foot under himself, and grabbed onto the nightstand to pull himself to his feet. His bloody hand slipped against the smooth wood surface. His other hand shot out to steady himself against the wall, and he leaned there for another long moment, catching his breath.

When the dizziness and pain eased, he forced himself to stand without assistance and walk to the bathroom.

Staggering into the bathroom, he felt for the light switch. The overhead lights came on with blinding scrutiny, illuminating his battered face.

His cheekbone, eyebrow, and lip were split open and leaking streams of blood. Both eyes were already black and swollen. Blood caked along his upper lip and dripped down the corners of his mouth as his nose gushed.

Nigel groaned as he touched his face to make sure nothing was broken. The slightest touch made pain scream through every nerve-ending. He sagged against the sink as he felt along the bridge of his nose to find the noticeable fracture.

“Jesus. Fuck.” Nigel growled into the silence.

Closing his eyes, he clutched the bridge of his nose beneath the break. Planting his feet and drawing in a breath, he counted to three in his head and pulled without giving the fear a second thought. Pain erupt fresh and white-hot through his head as a sickening crunch reverberated through his skull. The cracked bones realigned, forcing a fresh blow of blood from his nose and a howl of pain from the throat.

“Jesus Fucking Christ.” Nigel shouted, slamming his fist into the mirror.

His hand smeared blood across the mirror in a jagged line as he sank down against the sink. Blood dripped in a steady stream from his mouth and nose, blotting the white bowl of the sink and creeping down toward the drain.

With a trembling hand, Nigel cranked on the faucet. He washed his hands in the sink before grabbing a clean rag from the rack and soaking it.

He brought the cold, wet rag to his face, patting gently against the broken flesh and bruised bone. Every touch of the rag made him hiss and swear, but he didn't stop until he had cleaned most of the blood from his face.

He met his weary expression in the mirror, wincing as the deep cuts along his cheekbone and eyebrow were visible without the blood caking them. Anyone else would be running to the ER for stitches.

Instead, Nigel shuffled out into the hallway and hunted through the closet for a full minute before finding what he was looking for. He took the small sewing kit back into the bathroom, and opened the lid with shaking hands.

He had a variety of colors to choose from. He could have stitched himself up with pink thread if he so wished. Nigel chuckled, sending a shaft of pain through his ribs.

Grasping the tiny needle, he held it up to the light so that he could see through the tiny eye at the top. He broke off a long piece of black thread, and brought the end of it to the eye. With his hand shaking, it took him half a dozen tries before he managed to thread the needle.

Leaning closer to the mirror, Nigel drew in a deep breath to ease the nausea beginning to churn in his stomach. The cut along his cheekbone was long and deep. He guessed it would take at least six turns of the needle to sew it shut.

Holding his breath, Nigel brought the needle to the edge of the laceration and pushed it up through the underside of the cut and up through the top.

“Fuck.” He hissed.

The pain of the needle going through skin couldn't begin to match the pain of the brass knuckles beating his face raw. He wove the needle in and out of his flesh with only a few muttered curses before tying it off at the end.

It was a piss-poor job that was going to leave a nasty scar. But it was sure as hell better than going to the death-trap that was the hospital.

Nigel threaded a second needle and pushed it through the cut on his eyebrow.

By the time he finished sewing up his eyebrow, his hands were shaking from the pain and blood loss, and his eyes were so swollen he could hardly see himself in the mirror. Fresh blood trickled down his face, pale in patches, red and bruised in others.

He grabbed a kleenex to plug his nose with, and wiped the excess blood with the wet rags. It was the best he could fucking do at the moment.

Dropping the wet rags in the sink, he opened the medicine cabinet and pawed through it for band-aids. They wouldn't seal the most severe wounds, but it was all he had until he could get to a different location. This place was compromised, and he couldn't stay here any longer.

But where to go?

He knew no one here. There was no one in the U.S., much less in Los Angeles, that owed him a favor. He couldn't stay at a hotel; they could track him there. He couldn't book a flight until he'd found a better way to conceal his identity.

He didn't even have a fucking car.

Nigel swore as his trembling fingers struggled to open the band-aids and peel the plastic off the adhesive. Blood continued to seep from his wounds and trickle down his face. He needed some fucking ice for his eyes before they swelled up and blinded him.

Nigel plastered half the box of band-aids over his face before he stumbled out of the bathroom, and down the hallway. Clinging the railing, he made his way carefully down the stairs, and into the kitchen where his laptop and cellphone sat on the table.

Staggering to the refrigerator, he pulled the freezer door open, and rummaged inside for the ice cube tray.

Slamming the tray against the counter, he jarred half a dozen cubes out onto the counter, and scraped them into a plastic bag. He threw the ice cube tray back into the freezer, and took the plastic bag to the kitchen table with him.

He held the bag of ice cubes over one eye as he grabbed his cellphone.

He dialed Ciprian's number, and held the phone to his ear. The phone rang five times before Ciprian answered.

“Hello, boss?”

“Ciprian, they found me.”

“Shit, boss, I know. They hit us too. Shit, everything's a fucking mess. It's all fucked-”

“Ciprian, slow down, and tell me what the fuck happened.” Nigel ordered.

“They fucking … They hit us. All our dealers. Six people are dead, Nigel. Fuck, I can't believe I'm actually talking to you. I thought for sure-”

“I'm fucking fine.” Nigel said, “What about all of our product?”

“We lost a lot, boss. We're hurting real fucking bad.”

“Fuck. Shit.” Nigel swore.

He held the phone away from his ear, and slammed his fist into the table. Tears of rage pressed hot to his eyelids, but he refused to let them fall. Sucking in a deep breath, he pressed the phone back to his ear.

“Okay, okay. This is what we're gonna fucking do.” Nigel said, “We're gonna fucking lay low for a minute, all right? We can't strike back right now. We're too weak. We've got to rebuild our resources.”

“Okay. You're right.” Cirpian said.

“I want you to find out who owes us favors.” Nigel said, “I want you to call them all in. Find out whose with us, and whose with Darko. We don't do anything until we have the power to, got it?”

“Yes, boss.”

“Once we've got enough people, and the element of surprise, we're going to fucking hit back. We're gonna hit back hard.” Nigel said, “Darko didn't know what the fuck he was doing. He's messed with the wrong fucking person.”

“Fuck right.” Ciprian said.

“I'm going to fucking kill that bastard.”

“We're right there with you, boss. Anything you need.”

“I need a new fucking identity.” Nigel said, “They fucking found me here, they'll do it again. I want you on top of that immediately.”

“What are you doing to do right now?” Ciprian asked, “I mean, your place is compromised.”

“I'll fucking figure it out.” Nigel said, “Just work on the identity and the favors right now. I'll call you back as soon as I get a new cellphone. I'm tossing this one, so don't try to call it again.”

“Right.”

“All right.”

“Sure you're gonna be okay, boss?”

“I'm fucking fine.” Nigel said, “I've had worse.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

“I do say so. Now get the fuck on it.”

“Will do, boss.”

Nigel hung up, and stared at the cellphone for a brief moment before throwing it on the floor. He stomped on the phone with all his strength, shattering the screen and cracking it open to reveal it's inner workings. He bent down and grabbed the SIM card. He broke the card in half, and threw it on the floor with the rest of the broken phone parts.

Turning back to his laptop, he lifted the lid. He stared at the blank screen for a few moments before opening his email, and scrolling through the history to find the information Ciprian had sent him a few weeks ago.

He tried to tell himself he didn't have any fucking choice. There was no one else to call, to rely on. No one to go to.

He tried to tell himself it would be okay.

But fuck. Everything hurt. His body hurt, his face hurt, his brain hurt. His whole world was in shambles.

He tried to tell himself he was going to use the information because he had nowhere else to turn. But the fact of the matter was, he was desperate. Desperate for a kind face, and a gentle touch. Desperate to know there was at least one person in the world who didn't despise him and want him dead. Just desperate.

Nigel scribbled down the address, and stuffed it into his pocket.

He went about the house, throwing essentials in a suitcase, leaving everything that he didn't absolutely need. While he zipped the suitcase on a few pairs of clothes, toiletries, and his laptop, he called for a cab.

When he left the house, he didn't look back.

He'd never fucking liked this place anyhow. He wasn't sad to leave. But he sure as hell wasn't certain if where he was going would be any better.

 

~

 

Adam arrived home from the observatory a little after five o'clock. As was his routine, he cooked dinner, and sat at the table with his laptop in front of him.

He would spend the rest of the evening watching TV, and using his telescope to look at the stars before he went to bed to start the whole routine over again tomorrow.

Adam was fine with monotony. He liked knowing exactly what was going to happen, what he would do, eat, and wear to work the next day. Watching his videos and looking at the stars made him happy, so he didn't really need anything else.

Adam had just finished scraping his plate clean when a loud knocking came at his door.

Adam froze with his eyes turned toward the door of his apartment. The video on his laptop played in the background, drowning out by the sound of panic filling his head.

The knock came again, loud and demanding.

Adam startled up out of his chair. He shuffled to the door, his eyes wide, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“Who … who is it?” He called out.

Silence greeted his question. Whoever it was rapped weakly on the door.

Adam drew in a deep breath, and pressed his eye to the peephole. He squinted as a man came into view, leaning against the door with his head down. His face was covered in band-aids, but not enough to obscure Adam's recognition entirely.

Adam took a wild step back, gasping aloud. His hands flew to his mouth in horror.

The knocking resumed, each one falling with a thud and shaking the entire door.

Adam's mind spun in a hundred different direction, fear, panic, disbelief, and curiosity telling to run, hide, or open the door.

He stood frozen in place for half a minute while the knocking came over and over again.

Finally, Adam couldn't take the pounding on the door any longer.

He lunged forward, and yanked the door open.

Nigel clung to the door frame, his body bowed and trembling, his head hanging low. He lifted his chin slowly, his eyes meeting Adam's with hazy concentration. His eyes were black and swollen, and his mouth was ringed with blood, but Adam would have recognized him anywhere.

“Hello, gorgeous.” Nigel whispered.

Adam stared at him, mute and in shock.

The spark of life in Nigel's eyes went dim, and he fell forward into Adam's apartment.

Adam gasped, his hands clutching at his mouth as Nigel landed with a thud, face down at his feet. His arms and legs sprawled out limp, and his face smashed half in the carpet, half up toward Adam. He was covered in blood and bruises, and he'd lost his suitcase in the hallway.

Adam was paralyzed for a long moments of cold, clutching panic. His mind tried to process how Nigel had gotten here, how he'd found Adam's apartment, and why he was all beat up all at once before any present moment consequences could dictate what Adam did next.

The horror of seeing Nigel bloody and passed out held Adam in place, shaking and blinking, and struggling to think one logical thought, until Nigel groaned. He began to move at Adam's feet, his hands clutching at the carpet in a weak attempt to push himself up.

“Nigel?” Adam whispered.

He sank to his knees in front of Nigel, and bent down to place his cheek against the carpet. Nigel's eyelids fluttered open, and his gaze focused in on Adam's mouth.

“S-s … sorry to barge in on you … like this, starman.” He mumbled, dripping blood past his lips.

“What happened?” Adam whispered.

“I got worked over, darling. What does it look like?”

“Worked over?”

“Beat up. Knocked around. Roughed up ...”

“By who?”

“Are you going to help me up?” Nigel asked, “Or are you going to lay on the floor with me for the rest of the night?”

“I'll help you up, I guess.” Adam said.

He rose to his feet, and stepped around Nigel to pull his suitcase into the apartment. He glanced up and down the hallway of the apartment building, half-expecting to see some mean looking person coming for them. He slammed the door shut behind him before his imagination could run away.

Adam circled around Nigel's prone body, and bent over to grab onto Nigel's arm.

Nigel grunted and hissed a string of Romanian curses as Adam pulled him up from the floor. He stumbled, and leaned hard against Adam, his hands rough and trembling at Adam's shoulders.

They swayed in the middle of the living room, Adam struggling to hold Nigel upright, Nigel leaning half his weight into Adam's arms.

“This isn't how I imagined seeing you again.” Nigel murmured, his half-swollen eyes playful despite his injuries, “It was a lot more … romantic in my head.”

“I didn't expect to see you ever again.” Adam said, “I didn't call you back. I thought you might be mad at me.”

“Mad … no.” Nigel panted, “But it did hurt, darling, I gotta tell you that.”

“It wasn't because I don't like you.” Adam said, “I was just scared.”

“I guess I made up your mind for you.” Nigel said, “I'm very sorry to barge in like this, but I can't stay at my house anymore. It's been compromised.”

“You should sit down.” Adam said, motioning to the couch, “You look terrible.”

“Thanks, doll.”

Adam guided Nigel toward the couch, and helped him lie down. Nigel collapsed against the cushions, and held a hand over his eyes as he grunted out another curse.

“I will get you some water and medicine.” Adam said.

He went to the bathroom, and hunted through the cabinets for painkiller. He didn't know if what he had was strong enough to ease the pain of Nigel's battered face, but it was all he had.

He walked to the kitchen with the pills in his fist, and pulled out a clean cup. As he ran the tap, he stared down into the sink in subdued shock.

He wasn't quite sure how he should be feeling right now.

Was it normal for him to help Nigel when they barely knew each other? Should he have even let Nigel into the apartment? Was he supposed to be calling an ambulance, or better yet, the police?

Those questions were aside from the more worrisome ones like why the first place Nigel came after being “worked over” was Adam's place. How he'd found out where Adam lived was a mystery within itself.

Adam suspected he should be demanding answers, but he was too relieved to see Nigel and hear that he was not mad.

Adam took the water and pills back to the living room, and offered it to Nigel.

Nigel murmured a thank you, and took the cup. Tossing back the pills, he brought the water carefully to his lips, and sipped with cracked, swollen lips. His hand trembled, sloshing water over the edge and down his neck.

“Is this like when you passed out in the hotel, and asked me not to call an ambulance?” Adam asked.

“Yeah, sort of.” Nigel said.

“I have never dealt with someone being beat up, but I think it would be much more advantageous to your health if you went to the hospital.”

“No it wouldn't.”

“Why not?”

“I don't think you really want me to answer these questions, darling.” Nigel said.

“Why?”

“Remember how I told you there's people back in Romania who want me dead? Well, they found me, and this is the kind of message the people I know like to send.”

“What did you do?”

Nigel scowled. “What do you mean what did I do?”

“You must have done something to make them mad.”

Nigel set his glass of water on the coffee table, and grunted as he sat up.

“You should lie down.” Adam said, rushing to press Nigel back down against the cushions.

Nigel caught Adam's wrist, and pulled him down on the couch next to him. Adam swallowed hard as he got close enough to see all the bruises and blood the band-aids on Nigel's face were concealing.

“Christ.” Nigel whispered. He touched Adam's chin with his thumb, stroking a delicate line along Adam's jawline. “You're too fucking innocent for all this.”

“I'm not innocent.” Adam said, “I know you're a bad guy, Nigel.”

Nigel grunted a coarse chuckle.

“You ever seen someone worked over like this?” He asked, “Fuck, I can't believe you even let me inside. I must look all sorts of fucked up.”

“I let you inside because you were nice to me at the airport and motel.” Adam said, “I would have let you inside if you weren't beat up.”

“But you wouldn't call me back?”

Adam nibbled his lower lip, and averted his gaze from Nigel's.

“I thought about it.” He said, “But I got scared.”

“But you're not scared now?”

“I like you, Nigel, and you're hurt and in trouble. I don't think I can tell you to leave.”

“You're sweet.” Nigel said, “But you don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

“Yes I do.”

“You are too innocent.” Nigel said, “I shouldn't have come here, and dragged you into this. They could still find me here …”

“If they wanted to kill you, wouldn't you be dead already? … Or is that just something they say in movies?” Adam asked.

“No .. it's not.” Nigel grunted.

“So you should just lay down and rest.” Adam said. “I won't kick you out, Nigel.”

Nigel released a sigh, and sank back against the cushions.

Adam grabbed the pillow from the other end of the couch, and offered it to Nigel. Nigel paused, gazing at Adam with misty eyes. Grunting, he grabbed the pillow, and pushed it underneath his head.

Adam pulled the blanket down from the back of the couch, and unfolded it over Nigel's body.

Nigel let out a shuddering breath, and pursed his lips as Adam tucked the edges of blanket around his legs and sides.

“You're too good for me.” He whispered.

Adam brought the blanket up over Nigel's chest, and gave him what he hoped was a reassuring pat.

“Go to sleep.” He said.

Nigel grabbed at his wrist, his fingers trembling and desperate. His eyes met Adam's, wild with unbridled pain and fear.

“Will you stay with me, angel?”

Adam sank down to the edge of the couch, and nodded.

“I'm right here.” He whispered.

 


	8. A Sky Full of Stars

Nigel dreamed he was running. He knew something was chasing him, but he couldn't look back to see who or what it was. He was exhausted, his lungs burning and his muscles aching, but he couldn't stop running. He had to get away.

After what seemed like an eternity of the nightmare playing on loop through his brain, he jolted awake.

Disoriented, Nigel shot upright, his hands searching wildly at his surroundings. His swollen eyes cracked open to find that he was in a sunlit apartment with empty, white walls, and scarce furnishings. The room was quiet except for the breath of wind coming through the open window.

Nigel let out a breath, and dropped his head into his hands. He was still in Adam's apartment. Still safe.

The last few days were a blur of pain, sleep, pills, and ice packs. His only clear recollection was Adam caring for him with a gentle touch and his impossibly blue, concerned eyes.

Nigel threw the blanket back from his legs, and rose unsteadily from the couch. An ice pack fell from his ribs, and landed on the floor with a smack.

Every shift of his body elicited a sharp pang of agony through his ribs. Clutching a hand to his waist, he made his way down the hallway to the bathroom.

He stepped up to the sink, and drew in a deep breath before lifting his head.

He met his reflection in the mirror, wincing at the horrific black and blue patches covering his face, and the swollen, bloodshot state of his eyes. Adam had exchanged the original band-aids for gauze and tape, giving him a half-mummified appearance.

“Jesus Christ.” Nigel whispered.

He had years of experience when it came to a life of crime and violence. He'd seen these kinds of bruises and cuts on hundreds of people – some of them he had inflicted. There was nothing quite like the adrenaline and power of pulverizing another human with bare fists.

 _I hope you fucking enjoyed it, you cunt._ Nigel thought as he recalled the man's leering face.

Nigel tore his gaze away from the mirror, and shuffled to the toilet to relieve himself.

He made his way back down the hallway, leaning against the wall for support all the way down to the kitchen.

He noted the numerous lists hanging from the refrigerator by magnets, and managed to grunt a chuckle. Pulling the door open, he hunted for something to appease his grumbling stomach. He couldn't recall eating much in the past few days aside from the water Adam had insisted on pouring down his throat.

Adam didn't keep a variety of food in the house, but Nigel scraped together a sandwich with lunchmeat and cheese. He took the sandwich back into the living room, and collapsed on the couch, the small effort of peeing and fixing food having taken all his strength.

 _Fucking pathetic._ Nigel thought.

He ate the sandwich without giving it's taste much thought. When he finished, he found the remote on the coffee table, and clicked the TV on for distraction from his aching body.

A little after five o'clock, Nigel heard footsteps coming down the hallway. He froze, his ears straining. His first conclusion was the paranoid idea that Darko's people had found him again, and that he should move to protect himself. Before he could convince his sore body to get up, keys jingled and the door knob twisted open to Adam's shove.

Nigel let out a breath as Adam entered the apartment.

“Oh, you're awake.” Adam said.

“Yeah.” Nigel said.

Adam responded with a nod, and pushed the door shut behind him. He walked past Nigel to the bedroom down the hall, and returned five minutes later wearing more relaxed clothing.

“I take it your job at the observatory is working out.” Nigel said.

“Yes.” Adam said, “I remembered all of your advice. It has been working well for me.”

“My advice.” Nigel muttered, “Right.”

Adam frowned at Nigel's despising tone.

“A lot of good my advice does.” Nigel said, motioning to his bandaged face, “You wanna know the reason this happened to me?”

“You already told me ...”

“It's because I was drunk by fucking three in the afternoon.” Nigel said, “Maybe if I hadn't been acting so fucking pathetic with my head shoved up my ass, I would have been able to fucking defend myself.”

Adam blinked at him.

Nigel released a sigh, and pressed a hand over his face.

“I'm glad your life is going well at least.” He muttered.

“Me too.” Adam said, “I was very concerned it wouldn't.”

Nigel glanced up at Adam's casual expression as Adam crossed the room to sit down on the couch next to him.

“You don't seem worried.” Nigel said.

“About what?”

“About this situation.” Nigel said, “About me being here.”

“I've decided it's a good idea to let you stay here.” Adam said, “If I cannot convince you to go to a hospital, you should stay here and get better.”

“You're not worried that the men who did this to me will find me again?”

“You are not drunk anymore.” Adam said, “You can protect us, right?”

Nigel met Adam's naïve, trusting expression with a inward groan of disbelief. What he would have given for Adam to be this trusting back in that fucking hotel room in fucking Dallas. It had only been a month ago, but it seemed like an eternity since that night, when his single goal had been getting in Adam's pants. Now he was beholden to Adam, and it would be disgusting for him to fuck Adam and walk away. Now he was involved, in too deep. Just like he'd told himself he wouldn't ever do again.

“Eh ...” Nigel mumbled, clearing his throat, “Right … right, darling.”

Adam cast him a smile, and jumped up from the couch. Nigel shifted around against the arm of the couch to keep a line of sight to him as Adam went into the kitchen and began pulling boxes out of the freezer.

He moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, preparing pots and pants before ripping open the boxes of frozen food.

Nigel ignored the TV in favor of watching him, curiosity aroused by Adam's behavior and movements. He couldn't quite recall what Adam had called his disorder, or what it even meant. If he had been smart, he would have looked it up on the internet and figured out the best way to get close. His gauge for judging people didn't quite work on Adam; that more than anything frustrated the hell out of him.

Adam was letting him stay here. He was glad Nigel was here. He wasn't worried about intruders. All of these signs seemed to suggest that Adam had feelings for Nigel the way Nigel did for him, but he flitted away from that type of adult conversation like a child distracted by play.

Half an hour later, Adam came out of the kitchen carrying two plates of food.

He offered one to Nigel with a grin.

“You made me dinner?” Nigel asked, returning the smile.

“Yes.” Adam said, “I hope you like it. It's the only thing I know how to make.”

“You eat the same thing every night? Doesn't that get old?”

“Not really.”

Adam sat down on the couch next to Nigel, and dug into his dinner with hearty enthusiasm.

Nigel tried a bite of chicken, and was pleasantly surprised to find it juicy and appetizing.

When they finished eating, Adam took the empty plates to the kitchen, and put them in the dishwasher.

“Thank you.” Nigel said as Adam returned to the couch.

“You're welcome.”

Nigel rubbed a hand over his jaw, and cleared his throat.

“Eh, Adam.”

“Yes?”

“I need to ask you a favor.” Nigel said.

“What kind of favor?”

“I need you to go to the store for me.”

“For what?”

Nigel motioned to his suitcase lying on the floor by the door, exactly where Adam had left it when Nigel first arrived.

“There should be money in there.” He said, “I need cigarettes, and I need a prepaid cellphone. I had to destroy my old phone, but I need to get in contact with my people.”

Adam pursed his lips, and shook his head.

“I don't go shopping on Wednesday. I go on Saturdays.”

“You can't make an exception?”

Adam bit at his lower lip. He shook his head harder, casting Nigel a harried gaze.

“No, I shouldn't.”

“Please, darling, I really need you to do this for me.” Nigel said, “What do you want in return?”

“In return? I-I don't know-”

“Anything.” Nigel said, “I haven't had a fucking cigarette in days; I'm fucking dying here, angel.”

Adam jumped up from the couch, and began to pace.

Nigel clenched his jaw.

“Why can't you go?” Adam asked.

“I shouldn't leave the apartment.” Nigel said, “I need to lay low.”

“I don't know, Nigel … I-I don't know if I can do it.”

“Look, isn't there a gas station down the road? It will only take you ten minutes.” Nigel asked, “The cellphone can wait, but I need a cigarette yesterday, Adam.”

“You didn't bring any?”

“No, I wasn't fucking thinking.” Nigel said, “I'm sorry to put this on you, but it's a matter of some urgency.”

Adam regarded Nigel with an anxious gaze for a few moments before nodding.

“Okay, I'll do it.”

Nigel let out a breath.

“Thank you, Adam. You don't know it, but you're saving my fucking life right now.”

Without responding, Adam walked back to his bedroom. He came back wearing a pair of tennis shoes, and a light jacket.

Nigel opened his suitcase and rummaged through it for the stash of money he kept in a sock for rainy days.

Adam's eyes widened at the wad of cash that Nigel pulled out of the sock.

“The brand is Lucky Strike. The red and white box – classic red, if that's easier for you to remember. Don't get the little packs.” Nigel said as he peeled off a fifty dollar bill from the stack, “Get the big fucking bulk package. I'm gonna need all of them.”

Adam nodded, wanly. “Okay ...”

“Do you need me to write it down?”

“No, no, I think I've got it.”

Nigel pressed the bill into Adam's palm, and flashed him a smile.

“You're a lifesaver, starman.”

“This is a non-smoking apartment.” Adam said, “I don't think you should smoke in here like you did in the hotel room. I could get in trouble.”

“I'll go outside.”

“You said you had to lay low.”

“I'll breathe out a fucking window if I have to.” Nigel said, “Now, please, just hurry up.”

“Okay.”

As Adam turned to the front door, Nigel could see his hands curling into fists despite his cool exterior.

Nigel bit his lip, feeling a pang of regret in his chest for making Adam do this for him. It pinched him in the chest, but it didn't overpower his hankering for nicotine.

Nigel slouched on the couch after Adam left the apartment. One hand tapped out an anxious rhythm on his knee, his nerves itching and jumpy with the demand for a smoke. He would have preferred a few stiff drinks to go with the cigarettes, but after what had happened, he supposed it was best to stay stone cold sober.

While Nigel waited for Adam to return, he tried to focus his attention on the TV. He flipped through the channels, searching for something interesting, but his gaze kept wandering to the clock.

He was anxious for Adam to come back from the gas station, not only because of the promise of nicotine, but because Nigel was still paranoid and jumpy as hell about Darko's men. The last thing he fucking wanted was for Adam to be dragged into his world where lessons were taught with fists and knives and strung-out druggies just desperate for a hit were made examples of in dark alleys and musty back rooms of nightclubs.

Whatever Adam said, he was too innocent to comprehend or accept Nigel's way of life, the things he'd had to do, the scars he bore.

Nigel jumped up from the couch as the clock ticked out fifteen minutes since Adam's departure. He paced to the window, and peeked out past the curtains at the parking lot below. Streetlamps lining the sidewalk beyond illuminated the way up and down the street, but Adam was nowhere to be seen.

“Shit.” Nigel muttered.

He scraped a hand through his hair and swallowed back bile as his imagination conjured images of a black van rolling up, and two men snatching Adam from the street. He wouldn't survive a fucking day in Darko's hands.

Nigel prowled around the apartment for another five minutes, his gaze bouncing to and from the clock. He tried to tell himself he was being overly cautious and paranoid, but the longer Adam was gone, the more nauseous Nigel became.

_I shouldn't have fucking come here. I shouldn't have put him in danger._

Nigel paused in the middle of the living room, his chest squeezing with fear. Suddenly, he didn't know what the fuck he was doing anymore. Why he was here. Why he hadn't gone somewhere else – anywhere else but here. Why the fuck was he so worried about a man he barely knew? And what the hell was he going to do about these feelings? He didn't deserve Adam – and Adam sure as hell didn't deserve what he would get from Nigel.

Nigel jumped when he heard footfalls in the hallway. He rushed to the door, and pulled it open a crack to peer out into the hall. His breath rushed back into his lungs when he saw Adam trudging up the stairs carrying a plastic bag in his arms. The questions racing through his mind came to an abrupt halt, overwhelmed by his relief at the sight of Adam.

Nigel opened the door to Adam, and plastered a smile on his face.

“Thank you, darling.”

Adam handed the bag off to Nigel, and took his shoes off by the door. He sat down on the couch, and pulled his knees up against his chest.

“Are you okay?” Nigel asked, “What took so long?”

“I'm fine.” Adam said, “There was a line.”

“You don't like crowds, right?” Nigel said, “I'm sorry.”

“I said it's okay.”

Nigel sat down on the couch next to Adam, and pulled the bag open. He frowned as he pulled the cigarettes out, and saw a few other items at the bottom of the bag.

“What are these for?” He asked.

Adam glanced at him sheepishly as Nigel pulled out two lighters, a keychain, and a magnet of the Golden Gate Bridge.

“Well, I thought you might need a lighter.” Adam said, “Then I couldn't decide which color to get, so I got both. Then I saw the keychain and thought it was pretty – see, it has stars on it. And then I saw the magnet, and realized I need another magnet to hang up my lists.”

Nigel bit back a smile.

“You're not mad?” Adam asked.

“Of course not. Why would I be mad?”

“I spent your money on stupid things I shouldn't have bought.” Adam said, “I'm not very good with handling money when I don't have a list. I tend to get distracted.”

“It's sock money.” Nigel said, “It's not like it's my life savings. It's fine.”

“Okay.”

Nigel ripped open the plastic wrapping on the cigarettes, and unsealed one pack. He pulled one cigarette free, and pressed it between his lips with a sigh of relief. Using one of the new lighters Adam bought, he lit up, and sank back against the couch cushions with a moan.

Adam made a face.

“It can't be that good.” He said.

“You ever smoked in your life, darling?” Nigel asked.

“No. But it looks gross.”

“It's the best thing in the fucking world.”

“The best?”

“Besides sex, of course.”

“Oh.” Adam said, “That does make more sense.”

Nigel slid his gaze to Adam, intrigued by the remark. When Adam had spoken of sex with his ex-girlfriend, he hadn't sounded excited by the prospect of doing it again. His tone had been flat, joyless. Perhaps it had just been the company …

“You should breathe out the window.” Adam said.

“Oh, right.”

Nigel grunted as he pulled his sore, bruised body up from the couch, and shuffled over to the window. Shoving the window up, he ducked his head to breathe a stream of smoke out into the warm, evening air.

Adam joined him by the window, his arms wrapped loosely around his middle. He gazed distantly out the window at the street beyond.

Nigel cleared his throat.

“So,” He said, “How can I thank you for going to the gas station for me?”

Adam shrugged. “I don't know.”

Nigel shifted closer to put his arm around Adam's slender shoulders.

“Surely there's something.” He murmured.

Adam glanced at Nigel with his curious, blue eyes and blinked softly.

Nigel took a drag of his cigarette to combat the fierce desire to take Adam by his curls and kiss him.

“Nothing?” He choked out, “Nothing at all you can think of?”

Adam shook his head.

“So, you're going to let me sleep on your couch, and eat your food, and force you to go buy me cigarettes … for nothing in return?”

Adam's eyes brightened.

“I know.”

“You do?”

Adam caught Nigel by the wrist, and tugged him away from the window.

“Come with me.”

“Oh, okay.”

Nigel flicked the stub of the cigarette out the window, and followed Adam down the hallway. His curiosity grew as Adam pushed open the door to his bedroom.

“Over here.” Adam said, motioning to the bed. “Sit down.”

Nigel sat down on the end of the bed, and tracked Adam's movement around the room with a burning gaze.

Adam had projector set up in the corner of the room. When he pressed the button, the lights switched on to display video across the walls and ceiling of the room. The video playing was a slow panoramic through the stars, creating a pseudo-planetarium crawling all over the bedroom.

“This is my very own observatory.” Adam said, “Dad helped me make it a long time ago. I keep adding different pictures and video to it because I get used to the same footage playing over and over again.”

“This is beautiful.” Nigel said, gazing up at the walls now glowing with spilling, bursting stars and galaxies.

“Remember how I told you that everything in the universe is moving?”

“Yes.”

“Well, moving isn't really the right word for it.” Adam said, “It's actually expanding.”

“Expanding?”

“Yes. The universe is expanding. It's not necessarily moving as much as it is growing. The larger it grows, the farther apart everything becomes. Soon, we won't be able to see any of this, or even what's outside in the night sky at this very moment.”

“Don't you find that a bit disconcerting?” Nigel asked.

“No. Why would it?”

“Because life is questionable enough as it is.” Nigel said, “Then you find out that the very ground you're standing on is shifting. It would be really fucking nice if something was consistent every once in awhile.”

“You want to control the universe.” Adam said, with a small chuckle, “That's not going to work very well.”

“I don't want control over the universe, just my own life.” Nigel said, “I can deal with everything else changing … but I've got to fucking know that I'm in control of my own life, making my own decisions.”

Adam grew quiet, watching the stars shift across the bedroom walls.

“I decided to move here.” He murmured, at last, “I decided to start over on my own because I wanted to prove to my dad, and Harlan, and Beth that I could do it.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, my job is working out. I have not messed up too terribly since moving here.”

“But?”

Adam turned to look at him, a frown settled on his brow.

“But you.”

Nigel swallowed hard. “But me …?”

“I'm not trying to prove anything to you. You already expect that I can do everything that I wish, and everything that all the NT's in the world can do.”

“That changes something for you?”

“I can't figure out why.” Adam said, “I never have understood why you are interested in me, of all people.”

“Said exactly like a guy who doesn't know his own worth.”

Adam's frown deepened.

“You're different, Adam. I don't just mean because of your disorder. You just fucking are.” Nigel said, “Hell, I've spent half my life just trying to be different from everyone else, and you … you do it like it's nothing.”

“Sometimes I can't help it.”

“That's what amazes me, darling. You opened your door to me when everyone else would have slammed it in my face. You've been kind to me when I don't deserve even the littlest bit of mercy and grace.”

“I can't see why I shouldn't be nice to you.” Adam said, “You're not making any sense, Nigel.”

Nigel gave a low chuckle, and shook his head.

“Maybe it's better you don't understand what I'm getting at.”

“Now you're really confusing me.”

Nigel rose from the bed, and crossed the room to where Adam stood with his hands balled into fists and his gaze perplexed. His mouth was compressed into a firm line, but his jaw and throat were soft in a way that made Nigel's hands crave to touch him.

“You don't understand what I see in you.” Nigel murmured, “And I don't understand what you see in me … It seems we've reached an impasse, darling.”

“What should we do about it?” Adam asked.

Nigel's teeth scraped across his lower lip, buttoning down the impatient growl in the back of his throat.

He brought his fingertips to Adam's cheek, grazing the flesh along the curve of his jaw with only a measure of the force and friction he longed for.

Adam blinked, and cringed away from the caress.

Nigel could see the thoughts racing behind his eyes, the longing that rested there despite his fears. He withdrew his hand, curling it into a fist at his side.

“Why didn't you call me?” He asked.

Adam's eyes darted away from Nigel's, bouncing off everything in the room in a desperate attempt to distance himself from the question.

“I-I just ...” He stammered.

“I'm not mad.” Nigel said, “I just want to know why.”

“I told you before … I got scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of-of … everything.” Adam said, wringing his hands together. “I was afraid you wouldn't like me, and I was afraid things would turn out like they did with Beth.”

“I couldn't not like you even if I tried.” Nigel said with a wry chuckle.

“I know, I just ...” Adam lowered his his head, and rubbed a hand over his face. “I'm sorry, Nigel. I'm bad at this … This is what I was talking about right before I left the airport. It's hard for me to understand what other people are feeling. It's hard for me to even understand what _I'm_ feeling sometimes. I can't really explain … just apologize a lot, and hope you won't get sick of me.”

“Adam,” Nigel whispered.

He pressed his fingers gently beneath Adam's chin, and lifted his head so their eyes could meet. Adam blinked up at him, his mouth soft and trembling.

“I just had to be sure it wasn't because of me.” Nigel said, “I'm not the best at this either. I just wanted to fucking know it wasn't because you don't feel the same way that I do.”

“I'm not sure what I'm feeling.” Adam whispered, “That's why I ran away at the airport, I think.”

“You don't have to name it.” Nigel said, “Just tell me how it feels.”

Adam's tongue flicked across his lower lip in concentration. One hand uncurled and left his side to press against his belly.

“Right here ...” He whispered, “It's warm, and … hollow.”

Nigel shifted closer, sliding his fingers around Adam's neck to lace his fingers through the curls at his nape. Adam drew in a shuddering breath as Nigel's hand covered the back of Adam's resting over his belly.

“It's longing ...” Nigel whispered, his voice growing husky, “... an ache that needs filled.”

Adam's lashes beat faster as color rose on his cheeks. Nigel could feel the shudder and swell of Adam's stomach that came with every shallow breath.

“It feels like you'll burst if it doesn't go away.” Nigel said, “But nothing you do can relieve the pain of loneliness.”

“I think so.” Adam whispered, haltingly, “Nigel ...”

“Yes, angel?”

Adam's lips shifted as he struggled to speak for a long, strained moment. His eyes raced to Nigel's, color filling his cheeks and confidence his sparkling blue eyes.

“I think ...” He whispered, “I think I want you to kiss me.”

Nigel swallowed hard as fresh desire galloped through his veins. The pulse swelling low in his belly pounded harder, urging his fist tight around Adam's hair and his hand into a clutch against the soft tremble of his belly.

“You think?” He asked, his voice shaking.

Adam nodded.

“You're not sure?”

Adam thought for a long, torturous moment before shaking his head.

“No, I'm sure.”

Nigel's mouth slipped open in a rush of disbelief and relief. A tremor worked it's way down his spine, through his belly, and all the way down to the tips of his fingers. He surged forward, dragging Adam's head back to meet the warm crush of his lips. Their mouth joined, Nigel's hot and decisive, Adam's vulnerable and unskilled.

Adam's hands lay stiff at his sides for a few long moments before breaking free of shock and grabbing onto Nigel's shirt. His mouth opened to the hungry strokes of Nigel's tongue, and his moan vibrated into the kiss as Nigel's tongue pressed across Adam's, stroking and tasting.

Nigel's hand slid from Adam's belly and curled around his ribs to cling at the curve and shiver of his spine. Adam's body drew stiff against him, and Nigel could feel the hard bulge of his erection grinding against Nigel's.

Nigel groaned against Adam's mouth as a fresh wave of heat rolled through his belly. He groped down Adam's back to the curve of his ass, fingers digging into the soft swell of flesh and dragging Adam hard against him.

Adam's mouth tore away from Nigel's, and he breathed hot and trembling against Nigel's chin.

“N-nigel …”

“Hmm?”

“Please, be gentle with me.”

“I'm sorry, sweetheart.” Nigel panted, stroking his thumb across Adam's cheek, “You're just so … Christ, so fucking perfect.”

Adam blushed harder, and flexed his fingers around his grip on Nigel's shirt.

“So are you.” He whispered.

Nigel bit back a grin. He pressed a row of kisses against Adam's jaw, making his way to Adam's earlobe, where he flicked out his tongue and breathed hot against the tender skin. He felt Adam shiver in his arms, and tightened his grip.

“I can feel how hard you are.” He whispered against Adam's ear.

Adam squirmed in his grasp, and uttered a soft whimper.

“I can make you come harder than you ever have in your fucking life.” Nigel added, “And I promise, I'll be gentle.”

Adam clung to him, shivering and quiet for an agonizing moment.

“Okay.” He whispered.

Nigel lifted his head to see Adam gazing at him with a little smile playing across his mouth.

“Yes?” Nigel echoed.

Adam nodded, his smile widening.

“You won't regret this.” Nigel said, pressing a kiss to Adam's cheekbone, “Go lay on the bed.”

Adam left Nigel's arms slowly, his hands curling and rubbing at his sides as he made his way to the bed. He sat down on the end, and laid back in an rigid motion with his legs dangling over the edge.

His eyes trained on Nigel, widening as Nigel tugged his shirt off over his head in one, swift motion.

Nigel prowled toward the bed, flaunting the tent of his jeans with a stroke of his hand. Adam turned crimson while the bulge in his own pants swelled bigger. He bit back a whimper as Nigel reached the bed, and grabbed him by the hips. Nigel lifted Adam toward the middle of the bed, eliciting a small whimper from Adam's lips as he settled between his thighs.

Nigel bent to press a kiss against Adam's mouth, reigning in his raging desires with the reminder to be gentle. All he really wanted to do right now was turn Adam on his stomach, and fuck him within an inch of his life, but his desires came second in this moment. He would alter his way of making love in any way to have Adam, and the realization only made the need grow sweeter and hotter in his belly.

Nigel found the hem of Adam's shirt, and pushed it all the way up his chest, exposing the soft, trembling plane of his stomach. Adam shuddered as Nigel dragged the backs of his fingers along the expanse of flesh.

Nigel dragged his mouth from Adam's, moaning at the silken texture of Adam's skin beneath his caress. He ducked his head to the dip between Adam's ribs, and kissed all the way down to Adam's navel, branding a wet, burning trail down the center of Adam's stomach. Adam's muscles trembled and clenched against the soft kisses, his fingers grabbing at the bedsheets and Nigel's hair. Nigel forged lower, pressing his mouth and nose into the soft skin just above the waistband of Adam's pants.

“Nigel.” Adam moaned, his hips arching against Nigel's face.

Nigel grabbed at the waistband of Adam's pants, and tugged the material free with ravenous hands. The fabric snapped away from Adam's erection, leaving him hard and throbbing against his bare stomach. Adam gasped, fingers clenching harder around Nigel's hair.

Nigel glanced up to see Adam's face. He was glowing red with exhilaration and arousal, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. Nigel had yet to touch him, but he was gasping and trembling, his cock hard and flexing, already leaking a tiny bit of pre-cum from the tip.

Nigel drew back long enough to discard Adam's pants and underwear over the side of the bed. He grasped Adam's thighs, and urged them apart to display his cock hard against his belly, and his balls sitting pink and tight just below.

Nigel whispered a guttural curse, and sank back down between Adam's legs.

Adam arched up from the bed, crying Nigel's name as Nigel barely dragged his lips across the head of his cock. Nigel reached up to plant a hand over Adam's chest, and push him back down against the bed. Adam clutched at Nigel's wrist, nails digging in when Nigel flicked his tongue against the swollen head of Adam's cock.

Holding Adam down, he drew his tongue across his lips just before taking Adam's cock into his mouth. Adam's cock slipped past Nigel's lips to the back of his tongue with the first suck. Nigel exerted the lightest pressure with his mouth, letting the warm, wet texture of his mouth do most of the work. Adam responded as if he were already coming, his hips bucking against Nigel's mouth, his moans coming breathy, yet persistent.

“Nigel!” He cried.

His nails tore into the back of Nigel's hand, and his hips strove desperately against the gentle suckling. Nigel could taste the hint of pre-cum at the back of his tongue. Satisfaction rolled through his veins at Adam's virginal response, but he wanted to make this moment last.

Nigel drew back, letting Adam's cock pop wetly from between his lips and land back against his belly with soft smack.

Adam's eyes darted open, and raced from the ceiling to Nigel's face. Disoriented and hazy, he was compliant in Nigel's grasp as Nigel took him by the hips and rolled him onto his stomach.

Nigel choked back a moan as Adam rolled onto his belly and arched his hips in Nigel's grasp. His ass was round and tight, the skin soft and flawless. When he arched his hips from the bed, Nigel caught a glimpse of his dusky little hole.

Nigel shifted down between Adam's thighs, and brought his mouth to Adam's tailbone. His kiss lingered there before slowly working down to the warm cleft.

Adam tensed and arched to the kiss, his gaze jerking over his shoulder to see what Nigel was doing. His fingers curled around the bedsheets as Nigel's mouth quested lower, nudging between his cheeks to find the soft pucker of his hole.

“Nigel?” He whispered in a wavering moan.

Nigel glanced up at him, a smile pulling at his lips at the innocent excitement in Adam's eyes.

“Trust me, darling.” Nigel murmured, his breath spilling hot down Adam's cleft, “You're going to love this.”

Adam's head fell against the mattress as Nigel followed the remark with a swipe of his tongue. His hips arched higher, leaving his hole vulnerable to Nigel's mouth, and he gave a muffled moan into the sheets.

Nigel lapped gently at the tender opening, leaving Adam's flesh gleaming in it's wake. Every stroke of his tongue dragged a shudder and a moan from Adam, and much to Nigel's satisfaction, his taut, little hole offered no resistance to the priming. He softened and swelled to the rhythmic caress of Nigel's tongue, and his hips arched higher in a silent plea for more.

Grasping Adam's thighs, Nigel spread him open wider as his tongue laved back and forth across the opening. Adam's hips flickered against Nigel's mouth, and he uttered soft, stuttered moans that spurred Nigel on. Nigel tightened the swirl of his tongue against the opening, rubbing hard at the pucker to feel it give way to his pleasuring. He pressed harder, ravenous for Adam's flesh, and buried his face in the cleft as he worked his tongue all over Adam's hole.

Adam moaned louder, his hips drawing tight against Nigel's face. His hips were twitching into the bed sheets, rubbing his hard cock against the soft texture for relief.

Gripping Adam's ass cheek with one hand, Nigel reached between his legs with the other to find Adam's cock hard and throbbing.

“Nigel!” Adam cried.

His hips bucked as Nigel held his cock in an iron grip and continued to work his mouth over Adam's wet, trembling hole. Nigel clamped his mouth over the opening, suckling the pucker of flesh hard against his tongue. He sucked down slowly, increasing the pressure on the tender flesh until Adam was whimpering and batting at the sheets. His hips trembled and jerked, but didn't go far from Nigel's mouth with Nigel's fist wrapped around his cock.

“N-nigel …” Adam choked out, “Please … please ...”

Nigel sucked off the flesh, humming a sound of pleasure as the skin swelled puffy and pink in response.

“Please what, darling?” Nigel asked, his voice low and husky.

Adam dropped his head against the sheets, and whimpered softly. “I-I don't know.”

A chuckle rumbled in Nigel's chest. He ducked his head to nudge at Adam's wet, soft hole with his mouth and nose, pleased by the twitching response of Adam's body. He slid his tongue out to draw a slow circle around the hole, swirling ever inward until the tip of his tongue was pressed against the opening, nearly breaching him.

Adam drew in a sharp breath, his body going taut and trembling with anticipation.

Nigel flicked out his tongue against the sensitized flesh, and felt Adam jolt in shocked pleasure.

“Nigel ...” Adam whined.

Nigel gritted back a devious smile, and licked harder, swirling his tongue around the clench of flesh. Just as Adam was softening beneath him, he speared his tongue against the opening and tunneled his way past the ring of muscle to the soft, hot interior of Adam's tight hole.

Adam gasped, and bucked against him. His cock swelled in Nigel's hand, releasing a tiny drop of pre-cum with a hard, shuddering throb.

“Nigel!”

Nigel slid his hand down Adam's cock, and dragged his thumb through the wetness clinging to the tip. Adam bucked, his hands clenching around the sheets. He hissed low in his throat, and went stiff as Nigel rubbed at his cockhead while massaging his tongue just inside Adam's hole.

“Nigel ...” He whispered, his voice shaking with pleasure.

Nigel thumbed harder at the swollen head of Adam's cock, feeling him offer up another rush of sweet, sticky arousal.

_Oh fuck._

Nigel squeezed his eyes shut, and focused on stroking his tongue in and out of Adam's hole. The wetness squeezing into his caress was nearly too much for him to take; knowing Adam was on the brink of orgasm made him want to forget the gentle pleasuring and fuck into Adam's sweet, little hole with abandon.

Clawing at the sheets, Adam arched desperately into the penetration. The exquisite curve of his spine dampened with exhilarated perspiration, and his shirt clung to his shoulders. The tremors rolling down his back came consistent and deeper with every thrust of Nigel's tongue. His cock jolted against Nigel's touch, spilling, aching, ready to explode.

Nigel withdrew abruptly, leaving Adam panting and shivering against the sheets.

“Nigel.” He moaned.

Nigel bit his lower lip. Forced himself to regain control.

“Don't start complaining yet.” He said, running his fingertip over one buttock and inside to the wet, trembling hole. “I'm not done with you.”

Adam moaned, his hips rising to the single touch of Nigel's fingertip.

“Is that what you want?” Nigel murmured, bending down to tuck his fingers under Adam's chin. He lifted Adam's face from the sheets, and pressed his mouth to Adam's ear as he stroked his fingertip across the wet opening.

_Oh, Christ._

Adam's hole was soft and trembling, so wet and waiting to be stroked open.

Adam whimpered, and nodded against the clutch of Nigel's fingers.

“Please.” He whispered.

Nigel closed his eyes as pleasure roared hotter through his head. He brought his fingers to his mouth, and sucked on them until they were coated in saliva. With his fingers wet and gleaming, he pressed them back between Adam's ass cheeks, and found the sweet clench of his hole.

He pressed one finger inside, choking on a moan as even the slightest penetration made Adam clench like a vice.

Nigel's finger tunneled in all the way to the knuckle, forcing a high-pitched moan from Adam's mouth. He wiggled back against the pressure of Nigel's finger.

“Nigel ...” Adam whimpered, “It feels … I feels … I don't know ...”

Nigel pumped his finger gently against the velvet press of Adam's body.

“Is it good?” He murmured.

Adam nodded, vigorously.

“Yes, yes, it's ...”

“You're close ...”

There was a pause before Adam nodded again.

“Hold on to it.” Nigel whispered.

“Please, Nigel.” Adam moaned, “I need to come, I-”

His voice broke off as Nigel hastened the pace of his stroking. He pumped his finger in and out of Adam's hole for another long moment, letting the need heighten and simmer, letting Adam whimper and squirm until he eased to a stop.

Adam moaned his frustration, and cast a frenzied gaze over his shoulder.

Nigel grasped Adam's ass cheeks, and held him open as he bent to deposit fresh saliva into his hole. The moisture slid down into the opening, the excess spilling as Adam's body clenched and trembled.

Nigel bit hard at his lower lip.

“So fucking beautiful.” He rasped, stroking his thumb across Adam's ass cheek.

Adam arched his hips eagerly, leaving himself vulnerable and open to Nigel next touch.

Nigel crowded between Adam's thighs, running his palms over the smooth swells of Adam's ass cheeks and down his thighs. Adam wiggled each time Nigel's hands came close to his cleft, only to stroke in the other direction.

Nigel let Adam whine and writhe for a few moments, before dragging one hand down the cleft, and through the wet mess of Adam's pink, trembling hole. He swirled his fingertips around the opening, spreading saliva all over the cleft, and straying down to stroke the swell of his balls.

Adam arched as Nigel handled his balls with a gentle squeeze, and gathered them in his palm up against the wet cleft. Nigel bent to lick all the way from Adam's tailbone down to his balls. Adam squirmed, a gasp catching in a throat as Nigel gave a passing suckle to his balls before rising back up to his primed hole.

Nigel streamed saliva past his lips, letting it dribble in excess down the cleft before catching it with his fingertips and pressing it back inside Adam's hole. His fingers delved into the wet opening, two of them tunneling past the clench of muscle to stretch Adam's tender body open from the inside.

Adam gasped and bucked, his fingers tearing at handfuls of the bed sheets.

“Ooohh, Nigel ...” He whined.

Nigel's jaw clenched against a moan. Lips pursing in concentration, he delved his fingers down against the swollen bud of Adam's prostate.

Adam went rigid. One hand flew to the headboard, wrapping around the wood slat in a white-knuckled grip.

Nigel's mouth tugged in a smile as he rubbed his fingers in a slow circle around Adam's prostate. He could feel how swollen Adam was, how much he was going to come. When he was done with him, Adam wouldn't know what was up and what was down.

Nigel shifted closer, laying a gentle hand on Adam's flank to keep him spread, his hole filled with Nigel's fingers bare and visible. The flesh was strained and pink around Nigel's fingers, muscles clenching every time Nigel's fingers completed a circle around his prostrate. His cock arched hard and throbbing in the air between his belly and the bed, and his balls drew tight, ready to release. Even in the darkness of the room, with only the light of Adam's private planetarium, Nigel could see the drip of pre-cum squeezing from his cockhead to dampen the sheets.

Adam's fingers clenched harder around the headboard, and a tiny whine came from his throat. He was hardly breathing as Nigel massaged at his prostate, his lungs swelled and pressing his ribs past the thin veneer of pale flesh. Arched stiff, his spine gleamed with sweat and glowed under the warmth, pewter lights of the shifting stars.

A moan bubbled past his lips.

“Nigel!”

Nigel's teeth clamped around his lower lip as he felt Adam's body growing stiff and taut around his fingers. He pressed closer, holding his breath, watching and waiting. Swirling his fingers harder against Adam's prostate, he could feel every tremor that worked it's way through Adam's pleasure-strung body.

“That's it, baby.” Nigel murmured.

The room grew quiet, and for a few eternal seconds, Nigel watched every muscle in Adam's body go rigid and a bone deep tremble shake the whole of him.

“Ah, ah …” Adam's whimpers came low and desperate.

He jerked against Nigel's steady massage, his body clamping hard and rocking with spasms as the pleasure exploded within him. He clung to the headboard as his hips followed the jarring lightning strikes of pleasure that rolled through him, and bucked in jagged patterns away from the maddening stroke of Nigel's fingers.

His moans spilled ragged and breathless from his lips, filling Nigel's ears like the sweetest music he had ever heard. Nigel could only watch in pleasure and awe as Adam's pale body twisted and ached against the deep, hard convulsions of orgasm, his flesh clenching and gleaming like some unearthly work of art.

As the shudders abated, Adam sank down against the sheets. He rolled over, exposing the wet patch of release on the sheets, and his stomach and cock dripping with come.

He met Nigel's gaze with batting eyelashes and rosy cheeks. His mouth laid open and trembling.

Nigel crawled over him, bending to press doting kisses against Adam's warm cheek and throat.

“Fucking beautiful.” Nigel whispered.

“You were right.” Adam replied, his voice shaking.

“About what, darling?”

“You said … you said you could make me come like I never have before.” Adam panted, “You were right.”

Nigel smiled broadly, and chuckled low in his throat. Cradling Adam's face, he pressed a hard, possessive kiss to Adam's trembling lips.

“I suppose this makes us even.” He said.

“Even?”

“For me forcing you to go get my cigarettes.”

“Oh, yes … even.”

Nigel sank to the sheets next to Adam, and wrapped his arms around Adam's warm, slender body. Adam curled against him, uttering a quiet sigh of satisfaction.

Nigel throbbed hard against him, but he didn't think of asking any more out of Adam today. For the first time in his life, he thought he could live without the release if it meant having a warm body next to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and yes, the chapter title is a reference to the Coldplay song "A Sky Full of Stars." It's my #1 Spacedogs song :D


	9. Trust No One But Each Other

Nigel jolted awake to the sound of the shower running coming through the shared wall of the bedroom and the bathroom. Sunlight was just beginning to filter past the curtains over the balcony doors, and the sound of birds chirping urged on the sense of contentment that warmed Nigel's chest.

He couldn't recall the last time he'd woken without his first thoughts being concerns over the business. It was a pleasing feeling he could get used to.

Nigel crawled out of the bed, and crept to the living room. His face throbbed, reminding him he needed another dose of painkiller and for his bandages to be changed. But first things first.

Nigel found his pack of cigarettes on the coffee table where he'd left them the night before, and plucked one free. He took the cigarette and a lighter to the window, and lifted the pane.

He smoked, tapping ashes out the window and watching cars cruise up and down the street. The last of the sunrise faded away to glorious, summer sunshine as the cigarette burned down to a stub.

The bathroom door opened, and Adam stepped out into the hallway with a towel wrapped around his waist. His damp curls clung to his forehead, and streamed rivulets of water down his neck and chest. He froze when he saw Nigel standing by the window.

“Morning, starman.” Nigel said.

“Good morning.” Adam said, clutching the towel tighter around his waist.

Nigel took one last drag of his cigarette and tossed it out the window. He crossed the room to where Adam stood, dripping water into the carpet.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked.

“Yes.” Adam said, “Did you?”

“Like a baby.”

Nigel palmed Adam's cheek, and bent to press a brief, but passionate kiss to Adam's mouth. Adam released a soft grunt, and clutched at Nigel's hips.

When their mouths parted, Adam blushed rosy pink.

“I should get dressed.” He whispered, his voice choked.

“Why's that?”

“B-because … because I have to go work.” Adam stammered.

Nigel groaned, and pulled Adam tighter against him.

“Why?”

“Why do I have to go to work?”

“Yes.” Nigel said, nosing along Adam's throat and against his earlobe. He wrapped one arm tighter around Adam's waist as Adam began to squirm against the warm, tickling kisses. “Why can't you stay here?”

“Because I have to go to work.”

“Call and say you're sick.”

“But I'm not.”

“They don't fucking know that.”

“Nigel,” Adam said, “That's bad. I shouldn't lie to my place of employment.”

“Fine.” Nigel sighed.

He released Adam, and leaned against the wall as Adam rushed behind the door of his bedroom. Tilting his head back, Nigel suppressed a groan in the back of his throat.

_I'm so fucked._

While Adam was in the bedroom getting dressed, Nigel took his turn in the bathroom. As he was washing his hands, he took notice of the bandages on his face, and the places where blood was seeping through.

Shit, he had to take better care of himself.

Adam came out of the bedroom to see Nigel peeling off the bandages taped on his face.

“Let me help you.” He said.

Nigel hissed as he pulled the last bandage off, and threw it in the trash. Now that the wounds weren't bleeding so profusely, the extent of the damage was copious bruising. The worst parts were his stitched up cheekbone and eyebrow, and the massive black and blue bruising around eyes and over his fractured nose.

“Sit down.” Adam said, motioning to the toilet lid.

Nigel took a seat as Adam got clean gauze, tape, and alcohol from the closet.

His brow furrowed in concentration as he wet a rag with alcohol and brought it to Nigel's face. He patted at the cuts and abrasions with one hand braced around the back of Nigel's neck. Despite his careful, tender touch, Nigel hissed and cursed as the alcohol burned into the wounds.

“I'm sorry.” Adam said, flinching each time he touched Nigel's face with the rag. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, no, it's the alcohol.” Nigel said, “It has to be done. Don't worry, you're doing great, sweetheart.”

Adam tucked his teeth over his lower lip as he finished the cleaning, and exchanged the rag for bandages.

Nigel watched Adam's focused expression, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What's so funny?” Adam murmured.

“Nothing's funny.” Nigel said, “I just realized this is the second fucking time you're patching me up, and it doesn't seem to bother you.”  
“Blood does not bother me.” Adam said, “I am bothered that you are hurt again.”

Nigel's smile faded. “Yeah, well, if we're going to keep on like this, it's something you'll have to get used to, darling.”

“Keep on like what?”

Nigel waved a hand between them.

“You know … like …”

Adam stood back, his eyes narrowing critically at his bandaging.

“Oh, you mean sex.” He said, his tone as casual as if he had been talking about the weather.

“Yeah, well … And getting to know each other, of course.”

Adam nodded, and turned to wash his hands in the sink.

“Hey,” Nigel said, standing from the toilet seat to touch Adam's arm. “Please, don't tell me you're having regrets about last night.”

“I don't regret it because it was really nice.” Adam said, his gaze darting to the mirror to catch Nigel's for a brief moment. “I had a good time.”

“That's it?”

“I do like you.” Adam said, turning face Nigel. “I did not ask you to kiss me just because I wanted to have sex with you.”

“But?” Nigel pressed.

“I just ...”

“Just what?”

Adam gave a heavy sigh, and pressed his eyes shut. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

Nigel reached up to cradle his face, and pressed his mouth against Adam's cheekbone.

“Whatever you're afraid of, you don't have to be.” Nigel whispered, “Whatever happened between you and Beth back in Manhattan, I promise you, it won't happen with me.”

“How can you promise that?” Adam asked, “How can you know?”

“Because, I've never felt this way about anyone in my whole fucking life.” Nigel said, “I mean it, Adam.”

“What about the girl back in Romania?”

“This isn't the same.” Nigel said, clutching Adam's face tighter, “If you had seen it … if you knew what I felt then, and what I feel now, you would know it's not the same.”

“It doesn't feel the same to be as it did with Beth either.” Adam said, “But I can never be sure what anyone else is feeling.”

“I'm telling you what I'm feeling.”

“I believe that you are feeling what you say you are feeling right now.” Adam said. “Right now, Nigel. What about in a few weeks, a few years? How are you going to feel when you see me have a panic attack, or a breakdown? How are you going to feel when we can't talk like this because I'm having a bad day? They happen, Nigel. Just because you haven't seen them doesn't mean they don't exist.”

“So, we'll work through it.”

“It's not that simple.”

“For me it fucking is.”

Adam pulled out of Nigel's grasp, and turned away. One hand curled at his side while the other tugged at his hair.

Nigel suppressed a burst of frustration in his chest.

“If you could see you the way I do, we wouldn't be having this conversation.” He said, “It would be fucking foregone conclusion.”

“Well, I can't.”

“Then you just have to believe me. That's love, darling. It's faith. It's a fucking leap of faith that you'll place your heart in someone else's hands and they won't crush it.”

Silence settled between them. For a moment, Adam stood with his back to Nigel, his shoulders hardly moving to breathe.

He turned, slowly, his eyes wide with shock.

“Love?” He whispered.

Nigel bit at his lower lip, and ducked his head.

“Fuck.”

“You didn't mean it?”

“No, I fucking meant it, I just ...” He planted a fist on the counter with a thump. “I just fucking told myself I wouldn't do this again.”

“Do what?”

“Fucking fall for someone as soon as I pick myself up from the last busted relationship.”

“You're sorry that you're falling for me?”

“No.” Nigel said, his gaze rushing to Adam's. “Fuck no. How could I ever be sorry for this?”

“You might be surprised.”

“Well, I'm not, okay? You best start fucking believing it, starman. If you don't kick me out on my ass, you're not ever getting rid of me.”

“I don't _want_ to kick you out on your ass.”

“Then don't.”

Adam smiled, weakly, and lifted his shoulders.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Nigel echoed, chuckling in disbelief. “Just like that? Okay?”

Adam nodded. “Okay.”

“You're not gonna keep trying to run me off with dire warnings for the future?”

“I can see you're determined.” Adam said. “But I at least had to warn you.”

“Consider it noted.” Nigel said.

He pulled Adam back into his arms, and pressed a smothering kiss over Adam's mouth. Adam clutched at his waist, and whimpered into Nigel's lips. It was more than Nigel could have dreamed of.

 

~

 

That night, Nigel sheepishly trailed after Adam to his bedroom when Adam finished brushing his teeth and putting on his pajamas.

He lingered in the doorway, his gaze following Adam around the room like a magnet.

Adam climbed underneath the covers, and gazed at Nigel expectantly.

“Are you coming to bed?” He asked.

Nigel bit back a smile. He turned the light off, and picked his way across the carpet in the dark to the other side of the bed. Crawling underneath the covers, he patted across the mattress to find the warmth of Adam's body.

Adam's fingers wrapped around his, and he let out a contented sigh.

After that evening, Nigel didn't question whether Adam wanted him in the bed or not again.

For the entirety of the following week, he grew accustomed to the apartment, to Adam's rigid routines, to climbing into bed next to him in the evenings. He didn't try to touch Adam until Adam asked him to, but his raring desires were not disappointed when, nearly every evening following the first, Adam initiated sex. It wasn't suave or pretty, but when Adam rolled up against him and began humping at Nigel's leg, Nigel was eager to please.

A week later, Nigel was burrowed underneath the covers with his mouth wrapped around Adam's cock when the friction of his hard cock against the mattress became too much. The finesse of his mouth around Adam's cock unraveled into a slobbering mess as he gasped in shock, and came free-hand into his trousers.

Adam's hand fluttered at his shoulder.

“What happened?” He whispered.

Nigel tossed the covers back from his head, and looked up at Adam's concerned expression.

“I, uh … I think I just time traveled back to being thirteen again.” He muttered, feeling his face grow warm.

“What?”

“I, um ...”

Nigel shifted up on his elbows, wincing at the warm squish of come seeping through the material of his boxers.

“I just came.” He muttered.

“How?”

“I just fucking did.”

Nigel untangled himself from Adam's legs, and hobbled out of the bed. He made his way to the adjoining bathroom, and peeled his sweatpants and boxers from his legs. He was a fucking mess.

Adam tagged along behind him, and leaned against the door frame to watch Nigel clean up with a furrowed brow.

Nigel met his gaze via the mirror.

“I guess you're just too much, starman.” He said, grinding out a chuckle.

“Too much?”

Nigel nibbled at his lower lip. The bright overhead light of the bathroom made the red blooming across his cheeks clear as day.

“Too sexy, I guess.” He murmured.

“Are you mad?” Adam asked.

“Mad?” Nigel asked, turning from the sink. “Fuck, no. Of course not, darling. Why would I be mad?”

“I-I don't know. You seem … not happy.”

“It's just, eh ...”

Nigel caught Adam's hands in his own, and pulled him closer. He cradled Adam's cheek, turning his head up so their eyes could meet.

“I just ruined a good pair of boxers, right?” Nigel said, flashing a smile. “Nothing to worry about. Let's go back to bed.”

“Are you going to finish?” Adam asked.

His tongue curled across his lower lip, and his eyelashes fluttered softly as he shifted closer to Nigel. His cock was still semi-hard, and tenting the front of the oversized t-shirt he wore.

Nigel slipped his hand under the hem of the shirt, grazing along Adam's bare hip.

Adam's eyes widened, his breath catching in the back of his throat as Nigel wrapped his hand around cock.

Nigel crushed his lips against Adam's, and pushed him back toward the bed. Adam stumbled backwards, grabbing at Nigel's shoulders and moaning into his mouth.

When they reached the bed, he fell back against the mattress, gathering the sheets in his fists and arching his hips to the downward stroke of Nigel's hand. As he trembled and reached climax, Nigel thought he'd cunningly avoided Adam's questions. He didn't know how tenacious Adam could be when transfixed by a question.

 

~

 

Adam peeked over the top of his laptop and chewed on his lower lip as he watched Nigel pace up and down the hallway. He spoke in low tones into the pre-paid cellphone Adam had purchased for him at the store.

Adam couldn't hear what Nigel was saying to the other person, but the conversation was tense. Nigel's shoulders were drawn, and his free hand flexed at his side or combed back errant strands of hair from his forehead.

Adam licked his lips, and turned his gaze back to the computer screen. Furrowing his brow, he concentrated on the words displayed on the screen.

It had been two weeks since Nigel had shown up on his doorstep, bruised and bloody. Five days since that evening when Nigel had come in his pants.

Adam couldn't get look on Nigel's face out of his head. Was it embarrassment? Frustration? Anger?

That last emotion was Adam's worst fear. He knew his limitations when it came to sex and intimacy, and though he tried to please Nigel's desires, he knew he was falling short by not reciprocating.

What of Nigel grew weary of giving and never receiving? What if he got fed up with Adam's insecurities and unusual behavior? What if he left?

For the past few days, these questions had been circling his head like birds over prey. This evening, he turned to the internet and it's vast array of resources to help him. Information was his safety. The more he knew and understood how something was supposed to work, the more secure and confident he felt.

The issue with the internet was the myriad of wildly differing opinions, especially about something as subjective as sex. He'd read more than a few horror stories that made his gut clench in revulsion. The only reassurance that kept him from abandoning his plan altogether was the memory of he and Nigel's first night together.

Nigel had been confident, skilled, gentle. He knew what he was doing even if Adam didn't.

Then again, trust had always been a problem for Adam.

Adam looked up from his laptop once more when Nigel hung up the phone, and shuffled out of the hallway with his hand tangled in his hair.

The huge purple bruises were fading to pink and yellow, and the swelling of his eyes was almost deflated. The damage was melting away, yet scars would remain.

Gazing at him now, Adam supposed trust had always been a problem for Nigel too.

“Who did you call?” Adam asked.

“My second-in-command. Ciprian.” Nigel said, “He's a fuckwad, but he gets the job done I suppose.”

“Is there trouble?”

Nigel pursed his lips.

Tossing the cellphone on the couch, he approached Adam with a frown. He leaned against Adam's desk, and nudged his fingers below Adam's chin.

“Don't you worry about it, angel.” He said, “It's nothing you've got to concern yourself with.”

“You look upset.” Adam whispered.

Nigel tried to rearrange his expression, but for once, Adam could see exactly what someone else was thinking.

“Are bad men after you still?” Adam pressed.

“Bad men are always after me.”

Adam considered Nigel's statement.

“What will you do?”

“Nothing, at the moment.” Nigel said, “I don't have the fucking resources to do anything. I have to let them think they've won, and then use the element of surprise to regain the advantage.”

“It sounds like war.”

“It is, darling.” Nigel murmured, his gaze growing distant and cold. “It's fucking heartless, and I don't want you anywhere near it.”

Adam lowered his head.

His gaze tilted toward the computer screen, absorbing a few cherry-picked words that reoriented his mind to what he'd previously been considering. Maybe now would be a good time. Maybe he could make Nigel feel better.

Adam jumped up out of his chair, and marched toward the kitchen with his head bent in determination.

“Adam?” Nigel called after him.

Adam opened the cabinet where he had put aside a plastic bag from the store. He carried the bag back to the living room, and plopped it down on the desk.

“What's this?” Nigel asked.

“Things we need.” Adam said.

As Adam untied the sack and began pulling a handful of boxes and tube from within, Nigel gazed at him curiously. His mouth slipped open when Adam set the boxes of condoms side-by-side on the desk.

“I didn't know what size you needed, so I bought all of them.” Adam said.

Nigel's gaze shifted to the lube.

“Strawberry flavored, eh?” He asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“In case you want to do what you did the first night.” Adam said, his face growing hot at the very thought. He cleared his throat. “It tastes good. I tried it.”

Nigel rose from the edge of the desk, and circled around to where Adam. His hand swallowed Adam's cheeks, palms calloused yet warm.

“Are you propositioning me, starman?” He murmured.

Adam gazed into Nigel's sparkling hazel eyes, and shuddered at the warmth rippling through his belly. He swallowed hard.

“Um ...Yes.” He whispered.

Nigel blinked, hazy and languid. His tongue slipped across his lower lip, just far enough to flash a glimpse of his canines. Easing forward, he pressed a brief, wet kiss against the corner of Adam's mouth, and slid downward to taste the curve of Adam's jaw. His breath surged hot down Adam's neck, sending thrills of pleasure and need straight to Adam's belly.

Adam clutched onto Nigel's chest as the prickle of stubble and the velvet caress of lips cruised down his throat. Nigel's hands curled over Adam's hips, dragging him closer with firm squeeze. Their bodies met, and Adam instantly identified the hard throb of Nigel's cock digging into his belly.

Nigel's mouth paused just below Adam's earlobe.

“You want me to fuck you, Adam?” He whispered, his voice vibrating into Adam's inner ear full of gravel and a groan.

“Yes.” Adam panted, squeezing his eyes shut.

Nigel drew back, his eyes latching onto Adam's.

“Are you sure, angel?”

Adam swallowed convulsively. His eyes darted away from Nigel's.

“Yes.”

Nigel squeezed Adam's cheeks tighter, forcing his gaze back up to Nigel's.

“I don't want you to feel obligated just because I'm pleasuring you.” Nigel said, “I'm doing it of my own free will. Because I want to.”

“I have my own free will, too.” Adam said, defiantly. “And I want to do this.”

The concern in Nigel's eyes waned. He lowered his head and pressed his face into Adam's neck with a groan.

“Christ, Adam. You don't know how much I've thought about the possibility of this moment.” He whispered.

“I've thought about it a lot too.”

The weight of Nigel's body pressed Adam back against the wall, and his hands trailed down Adam's chest and sides. His fingers hesitated at the hem of Adam's shirt before ducking underneath to graze across bare flesh.

Adam wrapped his arms around Nigel's neck, and breathed out a sigh. Nigel's thumb dragged along his belly, and dipped beneath the band of his pajama pants. A gasp rushed from Nigel's throat as his fingertips encountered only skin and the soft dusting of hair beneath.

“Fuck, darling.” He groaned.

Adam arched his hips toward the caress. His belly drew taught at Nigel's smallest touch, and his cock was awake with tingles of need.

Nigel's big, warm hand curled around his half-erect cock, and dragged him toward complete erection with a few languid strokes. Adam squirmed against the wall, whimpering low with every caress.

“Oh, Nigel.” He panted.

He rose on his toes, eagerly thrusting toward the promise of pleasure he now associated with Nigel's touch.

Nigel stopped touching him just long enough to yank the silky pajama pants down his legs. The material pooled around Adam's ankles as Nigel seized him once more.

Adam gasped aloud, and clawed at Nigel's back as the steady, swallowing heat of Nigel's hand surrounded his balls. Nigel was hardly rough with him, but his palm was calloused and confident, massaging Adam's balls until they were full and stiff and aching.

Adam whined. Tugging at Nigel's forearm, he managed to direct Nigel's hand away from his balls and back to his cock.

Nigel gave him a few quick strokes before relinquishing his hand entirely.

He leaned back, a devilish smile curling his mouth.

“Not quite yet, darling.” He murmured, touching Adam's flushed cheek.

Adam struggled to stand upright without trembling. His cock, hard and pink against his belly, throbbed and pulled a dull ache through him.

He couldn't untangle his tongue to speak before Nigel leaned back in to kiss him. Nigel's mouth took his, slow and appreciative, tongue peeking out to flick along Adam's upper lip. One hand guided Adam's head back to deepen the kiss, and Nigel crowded in closer, pinning Adam against the wall. Adam moaned into Nigel's mouth as his hard cock was trapped between their bodies, aching against the coarse texture of Nigel's jeans and the rigid swell of Nigel's own erection.

Nigel kissed him, hard and fierce and full of need. He kissed until their breaths came rushed and hot through their nostrils, and both of them were hardly breathing.

When he pulled back, Adam's head tilted with pleasure and need. His belly scorched with roaring desires. Normally, by this point, Nigel would already be on his knees with Adam's cock in his mouth.

But this time was different. It felt different. Not just in the sense that they were entering unknown territory. Not just in the sense that Adam had never experienced before what he was about to experience now.

In the sense that everything was going to change after tonight.

“I have a confession.” Nigel whispered, his voice throaty and choked.

“What is it?” Adam asked.

Nigel's tongue darted across his lower lip, and his eyes shifted down, to where their bodies joined flush.

“You were right.” Nigel murmured. “That morning when we woke up in the hotel, and you were scared. You told me that you knew I just wanted to fuck you.”

A suspended pause hummed between them.

Adam held his breath.

“You were right.” Nigel repeated.

“I'm confused.”

“I didn't know you.” Nigel said, “I felt like I did, but I didn't really. You were this beautiful, incredible, fucking brilliant person – and God, you were so much better than me.”

“I-I don't understand.”

Nigel clutched Adam's jaw tighter, his eyes darting back up to latch onto Adam's.

“I wanted to get you in bed.” Nigel said, “You have no fucking idea how much. And now you're asking me to … and – I'm not fucking worthy of you, angel.”

“Worthy? … What does that mean?”

“I don't deserve you, starman.” Nigel said, “That's what I fucking mean.”

“I don't care what you mean.” Adam said, “I want you.”

Nigel's eyebrows knitted, but a relived chuckle rumbled from his throat. He pressed a hard, passionate kiss to Adam's mouth, and Adam could almost taste his desperation.

Nigel grabbed Adam's by the hips, and hoisted him up, jarring an alarmed sound from Adam's throat. Their mouth disconnected by force alone, and Adam opened his eyes to see Nigel swiping the lube, and one of the boxes from the desk. Cradling Adam with one arm, and gripping the supplies with the other, he marched down the hallway toward the bedroom.

Adam clung to Nigel's shoulders with a white-knuckled grip.

His mind spun with the possibilities the night held. His only points of reference were the last two weeks with Nigel and expectations derived from his internet researching, but as they approached reality, Adam realized he trusted Nigel more than what he'd read online. He wasn't scared anymore.

Nigel approached the bed, and lowered Adam's feet to the ground. As he set the condoms and the lube on the bed spread, he looked Adam up and down with a burning gaze. Even in the shadows of the room, Adam could glimpse the need burning in his eyes.

Nigel touched Adam's bare hip with gentle hand, and nudged Adam around to face the bed. Adam followed Nigel's urging, chin turning against his shoulder to keep Nigel within his view.

Nigel's fingers grazed along his hip and over the swell of one ass cheek, eliciting a moan from Adam's throat. His thumb quested against the cleft, and Adam struggled to remain still. The smallest stroke of Nigel's thumb against his hole released a fresh burst of need low in his stomach.

Nigel's breath rustled through the silence, a loud exhale of need laced with a groan. He shifted closer, his body barely brushing Adam's as he pressed a warm, wet kiss to the cure of Adam's neck. His hand circled around Adam's waist, palm going flat across Adam's trembling belly before reaching his cock.

With a few lazy strokes, Adam was shaking with desire, his cock jumping against the feather-like touch of Nigel's hand.

Whining, Adam grabbed at Nigel's wrist, aching for more.

“Nigel.” He whispered, his voice hanging onto the syllables with desire.

Nigel pushed his hips flush against Adam's backside, and Adam gasped at the nudge of Nigel's clothed erection between his ass cheeks.

Nigel's hand left Adam's cock, and laid hold of his t-shirt. He lifted the garment up, pausing to let Adam raise his arms, before discarding the shirt to the floor. Adam stood naked and trembling in the circle of Nigel's arms, overwhelmed by the smallest caresses and stimulation.

Nigel breathed out a pleased sigh. Trailing kisses along Adam's bare shoulder, he smoothed his palm up Adam's belly and chest to the soft peaks of Adam's nipples. He stroked his thumbs across them, bringing them to engorged, tingling hardness and a strangled plea from Adam's throat.

Nigel's mouth opened against Adam's neck, trailing saliva and the heat of his breath behind each kiss. He made his way up Adam's neck, and to his earlobe where he nibbled at the soft flesh. His hands clutched over Adam's chest, holding Adam still as he tasted the rim of Adam's ear the tender skin just below. Adam squirmed, an errant hand reaching for his own hard cock.

Nigel's hand wrapped around Adam's forearm, jarring Adam's hand away from his cock.

“Don't.” Nigel murmured.

Adam's brow furrowed in frustration, and he grunted softly.

Nigel pressed his palm against Adam's lower back, and guided him down toward the bed. Adam followed the urging of Nigel's hand until he was bent over the bed, his face in the sheets. He peered over his shoulder as Nigel hovered behind him, eyes perusing a burning trail down Adam's back and the curve of his ass.

He pulled his shirt off over his head, displaying the taut stretch of his belly and the muscles rippling just beneath. His ribs were colored with fading bruises, but his injuries were the farthest thing from Adam's mind. He had to bite back a whimper as Nigel thumbed open his jeans, and shoved the restrictive denim down to his ankles. His cock tented his boxers in long, thick curve, soaking moisture through the tip.

Nigel sank to his knees behind Adam. His hazy gaze focused in on the arch of Adam's spine and the taut swell of his ass cheeks. One hand slid up the back of Adam's right thigh, and over his ass cheek. He paused here, salivating satisfaction evident in every nuance of his expression.

Adam shivered as Nigel's other hand joined the first, each one cupping his ass in a gentle, but firm grasp.

Nigel bent forward, and Adam began to moan before his mouth even touched flesh. The first stroke grazed across Adam's tailbone, awakening flesh and sparking electric need down to Adam's core. Adam, grabbed at the bed sheets to anchor himself as Nigel kissed his way down the cleft, hardly lingering at the puckered hole before leaning back.

Adam squeezed his eyes shut, waiting. His lungs ached behind his pursed lips.

Nigel's mouth returned, parting to blow a hot surge of air down the cleft.

Adam tensed, heart hammering against his ribs.

“You want me to fuck you here ...” Nigel's voice broke the utter silence in a muted, husky whisper.

Adam's eyes jarred open, and his stomach clenched at the words rolling easily off Nigel's tongue. A statement. Not a question.

“Y-yes.” Adam stammered.

Nigel breathed across the saliva wet flesh, drawing a shudder from deep in Adam's belly. He turned a gaze over his shoulder to see Nigel staring up at him.

Nigel's tongue curled along his upper lip, leaving his smile gleaming.

“Usually I make you come hard and fast.” He murmured.

Adam's felt his face growing hot.

“Usually?” He choked out.

“Not tonight.” Nigel said, “You'll have to be patient, darling. If I'm going to stretch you enough for my cock, it's going to take longer than ten minutes.”

Adam's mouth lay limp as he stared at Nigel, absorbing his statements.

“If you come while I'm prepping you, it's okay.” Nigel said, “But that won't be the end of the night.”

“I-I know how it works.” Adam said, “I've … I've read things.”

Nigel smiled, softly. “Okay. Then do your best to relax.”

Adam nodded.

_Relax._

Nigel had no idea how difficult that simple concept was for him.

He turned his face back into the sheets.

Nigel's tongue flicked against him, centering his mind back on the pleasure tingling low in his belly. A moan surged up his throat, and came out strangled as Nigel's tongue shifted into a swirling pattern around his hole.

Nigel pressed closer, and dragged Adam's hips against his face. A growl of pleasure vibrated past his lips and against Adam's skin, into his bones if that were possible. He clutched at the sheets, throat bubbling with moans that came with every slick stroke of Nigel's tongue.

Adam's cock swelled to the invasive pleasure, and his hips rolled toward the sweet friction of the bed sheets of their own accord. Nigel's hands gripped him closer with every jar of Adam's hips, pulling his aching cock out of reach of the mattress.

Nigel was ravenous, tongue, lips, and teeth taking their turns over Adam's tender flesh until the taut hole had turned to a puffy, sensitive opening. Nigel paused, breathing hotly across Adam's wet skin. Adam could hear the click of his throat as he swallowed.

Adam's muscles clenched as he waited, and his fingers ached around the bed sheets.

Nigel lips smeared across the inner curve of one ass cheek, and his palm gathered underneath to meet them. Holding Adam open, he swiped the bottle of lube from the mattress.

Adam cast a harried glance over his shoulder, and gave a stuttered moan as Nigel poured a cool dose of lube over Adam's humming, sensitized skin. Nigel's thumb came next, the pad smoothing the streaming lube over Adam's hole and circling in a hypnotic pattern.

Adam's teeth snared at his lower lip, holding back a strangled moan. The stroke of Nigel's thumb fostered the growing need, sparking a fresh wave of tingles through Adam's belly. He arched from the mattress, tilting his hips back eagerly to the caress of Nigel's hand.

Nigel hummed a pleased chuckle as he maintained the slow, agonizing speed. Thumb dragged in lazy circles, steady and stubborn despite Adam's whining and thrusting.

Huffing, Adam dropped his forehead to the sheets, and squeezed his eyes shut. A groan of frustration lodged in the back of his throat, but he was neither capable nor willing to release it.

Nigel had told him to be patient, to wait, and he had to do it. In this one thing, he trusted Nigel more than himself.

Nigel hummed a sound of pleasure as Adam's hole shuddered open to his touch. His thumb nudged just inside, swirling against the rim of muscle and teasing Adam with the slightest penetration.

A shrill moan twisted from Adam's throat, and his hips locked in an arch against Nigel's touch. He froze there, waiting with pounding heart and dry, eager throat.

The need rose to a dull roar in the back of his mind, like none other he had ever felt before. This need was a drive, an insanity that took precedence to all else in this moment. This wasn't just a little itch that needed scratched. It felt like a missing piece of him, at last falling into place.

Just as Adam felt the scream building in the back of his throat, Nigel's thumb sank into him. The penetration came slow and steady, until Adam's hole gripped around the knuckle. For an aching moment, Nigel let his thumb rest motionless in the warm, wet clutch before he shifted into a massage. The tip of his thumb curled downward, questing for a few breathless seconds before finding the swollen bud of Adam's prostate.

“Ohh ...” Adam moaned.

He lurched against the mattress, fists dragging the sheet off the corner of the mattress in his pleasure. His body curled against the electric surge of pleasure that shot through his body. He remembered well the massive pleasure Nigel had wrung from him that first night, but this fresh experience made his memories pale in comparison. The tingles swelled through his belly and chest, and his cock thrummed against his belly in sudden, impatient need.

Adam gasped as Nigel's thumb stroked a merciless circle around his prostate. His mind blanked to white-hot pleasure, and he grappled at his control in a clumsy attempt to slow the tide of climax rising in his belly.

For the past two weeks, stamina hadn't mattered. He'd enjoyed fast, satisfying orgasms at Nigel's hands without any shame at coming so quickly, but now- … Now it was real. Tonight was the real thing. Tonight had hardly begun, Nigel had hardly touched him, and he was already on the verge of coming.

Adam's eyes jarred open when Nigel's touch left him abruptly. The pleasure receded to an appropriate hum in his belly, dragging Adam back from the edge, back to reality.

He cracked his eyes open to see Nigel hovering over him. His eyes were like some magnetic force, sucking Adam in, holding him captive.

“You good, darling?”

Adam nodded, hardly trusting his voice.

Nigel pressed a row of kisses along Adam's shoulders, and nuzzled up into the curls at his nape. His hand smoothed over the arch of Adam's backside, and slid along the wet cleft to find Adam's opening. His finger gently prodded against the soft hole, finding Adam trembling and open.

Adam's whole body washed with pleasure as Nigel's finger delved into him. He moaned low in his throat, and clenched his fists around the sheets. His hips dragged taut against Nigel's caress, pulsing to the rhythm of Nigel's finger.

Nigel's mouth pressed against the back of Adam's neck as he pumped his finger in and out. His breath heated Adam's skin, hot with need and exhilaration, tainted with low moans that vibrated into Adam's ear.

Adam focused on the sound and sensation of Nigel. The solid weight of his body, the rhythm of his breaths. The sweet sound of his pleasure. He was warm, and big, and steady, and Adam was enveloped in his strength. Safe. At ease.

All his fear and insecurities melted away as Nigel slowly stroked him open him. His fingers came gentle but firm, touching Adam with just the right pressure and depths to sway him into relaxation. Each time Adam clenched and moaned, Nigel's mouth would nuzzle against his throat, breathing warm reassurances and praises across his sweat damp skin.

Time itself unraveled, lost to him as the preparation stretched on into sweet, aching pleasure. The orgasm simmered low in his belly, only one stroke away if Nigel touched him just right. But Nigel was confident and rock-steady, and he had three fingers fitted inside Adam's hole before the threat of climaxing prematurely crossed Adam's mind again.

When the third finger pressed into him, Adam's eyes flew open, and a gasp jumped from his throat. The sweet ache building in his core deepened impending pleasure at the sensation of being stretched open. His cock twitched hard against his belly, offering up a pearly drop of pre-cum.

“Nigel ...” Adam moaned.

Nigel's fingers pressed into him, and paused, entirely submerged.

“Adam?” He replied, his voice a gravely whisper.

Adam wiggled on Nigel's fingers, aching for release.

“P-please ...” He choked out, “Please, I'm … I need … It-it ...”

“You're ready?” Nigel murmured.

Adam grunted at his own lack of articulation, but nodded vigorously.

Nigel's fingers slid out of him, and Adam gasped at the aching emptiness that followed. He cast an anxious gaze over his shoulder as Nigel's weight left him.

Nigel rose his knees behind Adam, and hooked his thumbs under his boxers. He peeled the fabric away from his hard cock, giving Adam his first good look.

Adam's mouth went dry as Nigel discarded his boxers, and dragged a hand over his hard cock. Even in the semi-darkness of the room, Adam could make out the prominent length snaking with swollen, throbbing veins and the veneer of foreskin stretched just over the head.

Adam rolled over, keeping his gaze fixed on Nigel's cock.

He reached out trembling hand.

“Can I?” He whispered.

Nigel's mouth tilted in a crooked smile.

“It's all yours, darling.”

Adam smiled, weakly. Tucking his lower lip between his teeth, he shifted closer to Nigel.

Nigel's gaze hung onto him with burning intensity as he brought his fingertips to the hard, flexing shaft of Nigel's cock. Adam's fingertips grazed along the soft flesh, barely a touch, but Nigel moaned low. His belly clenched hard as Adam's fingertips stroked back up to ghost along the head.

“Adam ...” Nigel moaned.

His hand wrapped around the back of Adam's neck, clutching on and trembling.

Adam wrapped his fingers around Nigel's cock, and tentatively dragged down the shaft.

Adam was acutely aware of his inexperience outside his own body. His fingers felt thick and clumsy around Nigel's cock, but Nigel responded with a quivering moan and thrust of his hips.

Confidence bolstered, Adam scooted closer and wrapped his fingers tighter around Nigel's cock. He gave it a few long strokes before tilting his head forward and dragging his lips softly across the head.

Nigel gave a low cry. His body bowed over Adam's bent head, and his grip tightened to a crushing vice around the back of Adam's neck.

Adam licked his lips, and guided the tip of Nigel's cock into his mouth. The flesh was tender, and hot, and slightly damp, tasting of salty, heady desire. Adam held Nigel just inside his mouth, intrigued by the taste and weight of him, and pleased by Nigel's abundant responses.

“Jesus fuck ...” Nigel groaned, “Adam … fuck.”

Adam gave an experimental suckle, and Nigel's hips quivered generously against him. His fingers wrapped around the hair at Adam's nape, dragging Adam's head lower. His cock slipped deeper into Adam's mouth, and Adam opened his lips wider to accommodate.

“Oh my god ...” Nigel moaned, “Adam ...”

Adam was singularly focused on Nigel's cock inside his mouth, fascinated by his own conquered fear. All this time, he'd been reaping the pleasure of Nigel performing this very act on him, terrified he wouldn't be able to reciprocate properly, but now that he had left his fear behind, he couldn't understand his past self's balking. It was rather simple now that he had his mouth wrapped around Nigel's cock, and much to his surprise, he was enjoying himself just as much as he had when he was receiving.

Adam began to suck, maintaining a slow and steady pace that Nigel always used on him. To his satisfaction, Nigel reacted with a surge of moans and a tremble throughout his body.

“Adam, oh fuck ...” He moaned.

His hand fluttered against Adam's shoulder before latching on.

“Adam, wait ...”

Adam blinked as Nigel pushed him back, popping his cock free of Adam's mouth.

“Fuck, wait ...” Nigel panted, head hanging between his shoulder.

“What?” Adam asked.

“You can't do that.” Nigel said, “I'm going to come before I even get inside you.”

A smile curled at Adam's mouth.

“Oh.” He said.

Nigel grabbed the box of condoms, and pried one from the packaging.

“And I do want to get inside you.” He added, casting Adam devilish smile.

“So do I.” Adam whispered, blushing hot. “But maybe later, I can ...”

Nigel pressed a hasty kiss against Adam's cheek. “Fuck, yes, darling. Later you can do it all you like.”

Adam laid back against the pillows as Nigel rolled the condom over his cock.

Nigel smoothed lube over the latex, and flicked a finger toward Adam.

“Lift your legs.”

Adam pulled his knees up against his chest. He bit back a moan as Nigel's fingers returned to his hole, rubbing fresh lube up and down the cleft.

Setting the bottle aside, Nigel crawled between Adam's legs and braced an elbow next to Adam's head. With his other hand, he guided his cock to Adam's hole. The head skated over wet flesh before finding the soft opening.

“Ready?” Nigel whispered.

Adam realized he'd been holding his breath, and forced himself to exhale. He nodded.

“Scared?” Nigel asked.

Adam swallowed hard, considering the question for a brief moment. He shook his head.

“No.” He whispered, “I trust you.”

Nigel smiled, and pressed a kiss against Adam's mouth. Adam melted to the kiss, and as his body relaxed, Nigel's hips curled forward. For a moment, all Adam felt was slow, aching pressure and the smallest pinch of a few resisting muscles.

He opened his eyes, searching for the comfort of Nigel's gaze. He found it, just above him. In the darkness, Nigel's eyes were the darkest shade of warm mocha that held Adam tight.

Breathing out a sigh, Adam relaxed to the mounting pressure between his legs.

The sensation of fullness completed with a tiny smack of Nigel's hips against his backside. Their bodies fused, Nigel's hard planes and rough edges sealing to Adam's soft and delicate curves.

Nigel groaned, head falling against Adam's shoulder. Adam turned into the warm nest of Nigel's hair, and clutched onto the rippling strength of his shoulders. A high-pitched whimper wrenched from his throat at the sensation of union, and the need and ecstasy rolling off Nigel in waves.

Nigel shifted closer, dragging his knees under himself and pulling Adam's hips up into the cradle of his body. The wide grip of his hands wrapped around Adam's ass cheeks, pulling Adam taut against the trembling strain of his body.

Adam gasped as Nigel shifted as deeply inside him as he could fit. For a moment, the aching, sweet pleasure of being filled to maximum was almost more than he could take. He dug his fingers into Nigel's shoulders, and squirmed his hips into the weight of Nigel's body, searching for the slightest give between them. A moan surged up his chest and past his throat, coming out thready and high-pitched.

Nigel's hips rolled back, and Adam gasped in a breath as his cock slid out to the tip.

“Nigel-” He began.

The exclamation cut off as Nigel thrust back against him, sinking his cock in to the hilt a second time.

Adam's hands fluttered at Nigel's shoulders, overwhelmed with the pleasure. He lost all thought except for the exquisite ache of Nigel's cock stretching him, filling him.

Nigel's arms wound around Adam as he began a a slow, simmering pace. His hips rocked against Adam between long, agonizing pauses filled with trembling skin, paper-thin moans, and cock buried in Adam's hole. Their skin smacked with every thrust, and Adam moaned in choked, yet clear cries of pleasure.

Nigel pressed his face into Adam's throat, branding his skin with snarling kisses and grazes of his teeth. His nuzzled up along Adam's jaw and earlobe, and at last, lifted his head to claim Adam's mouth. Adam clung onto the kiss as the heat and friction swelled between them.

Nigel's mouth smoky and sweet, and passionate, dragging with bruising force across Adam's lips. His tongue pressed past Adam's quivering mouth, urgent as if marking his territory, but following with gentle strokes when Adam began to whimper.

He clutched a hand at Adam's cheek, and pulled back to join their gazes.

“Oh, Adam ...” He moaned.

Adam met his burning gaze, quivering at the power and passion simmering just beneath every inch of his skin.

There was something brutal in Nigel's eyes, a possessiveness that Adam had never experienced before. It made him tremble to know that all of that power and need was pointed at him, but fear was long behind. This quivering, warm burst inside him was something entirely different; a reverence, and a joy. A realization that the brutality was not whole, but shared with a gentility, a loving and caring side that had been malnourished by years of harsh living and violence. A love that longed to grow and blossom if only it were diligently watered.

Adam could hardly understand or even begin to translate what he saw, but it was as if some force beyond him had taken control of his body. He only knew that he wanted to be closer to Nigel, that he wanted so much more than two weeks. More than the physical pleasure they had given each other. More than tending to wounds. More than fear and ignored phone calls.

Adam clung onto Nigel with all his strength, desperate and hungry for this special connection that had started between them by chance. The thought that he'd nearly let it slip past his fingers only made him hold on more fiercely. And as Nigel unraveled in his arms with a growl and full bodied tremble, Adam couldn't imagine a future without him. He had never been more sure of anything else in his life.

 


	10. In The Name of Love

Evening had faded away into pale starlight when Nigel awoke to find the bed next to him empty. Blinking and confused, he lifted his head from the pillow to make out the shape of Adam's body across the room.

The balcony doors stood open, allowing a sweet, summer breeze and the gossamer light of the moon to spill into the bedroom. Dressed in an over-sized t-shirt, Adam bent over his telescope that gazed with it's glassy lens toward the stars.

Nigel was accustomed to sleeping with one eye open, and being aware of changes in his surroundings. Adam's absence had woken him, a curious if not comforting clue that Nigel had acclimated to this new life in a matter of a few weeks.

Nigel pushed himself upright, and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. A glance at the clock told him it was past one a.m.

“What are you doing, angel?” He asked, his voice coarse and husky from sleep.

Adam lifted his head from the telescope, and cast Nigel a smile.

“Saturn is within range of the naked eye.” He said, “But I can get an even closer look than usual with my telescope.”

“But it's past one.” Nigel groaned.

“It doesn't happen ever day, Nigel.” Adam said, indignant.

Nigel chuckled, and scraped a hand through his hair.

“Come look, and you'll see what I mean.” Adam said, “It's beautiful.”

Nigel coaxed his tired limbs up off the bed, and shuffled across the room to the telescope. Adam stood aside, and motioned for Nigel to put his eye to the lens.

Nigel brought his eye to the telescope. It took a few moments for his eye to focus through the lens, but as his view of the planet stabilized, a smile tugged at his mouth.

Despite the strength of Adam's telescope, the planet was blurry around the edges with the clearest part being the rings. It appeared just as it did in school textbooks and artist renderings with it's varying degrees of tans and greys through the planet itself, and the clear division between light and dark belts in the rings.

He had seen photos many times before, but gazing at it through the telescope offered a transcendental illusion of closeness despite the millions of light years that still separated them.

Nigel leaned but, and blew out a sigh.

“You're right, it's beautiful.”

“Saturn is one of the easiest planets to view, even from a smaller telescope.” Adam said, “When I got my first telescope as a kid, it was one of the few I could get a good focus on. We're lucky tonight because we are in a good position, and the shadows fall in a way that brightens the rings. It looks magnificent.”

Nigel looped an arm around Adam's neck, and dragged him in to press a kiss against his temple. “Enough to drag me out of bed at one the morning, hmm?”

“You didn't _have_ to get up.” Adam said, “I'm just looking.”

“Sure.” Nigel murmured, nuzzling against Adam's ear.

“You're not really mad, are you?”

Nigel pulled back at the anxious tone in Adam's voice.

“No, of course not, angel.” He said, “I'm just kidding. I love to hear you talk about the stars.”

Adam chewed at his lower lip. “Okay, well good.”

“I never sleep through the night anyway.” Nigel said, “Old habits die hard, as they say.”

“What habit is that?”

“My life before this ...” Nigel said, “I was used to be being on guard all the time, expecting the worst. It doesn't allow you a good night's rest.”

Adam ducked out from underneath Nigel's arm, and bent over his telescope again.

Nigel watched him with a frown as he took his time adjusting the scope and the tilt of the telescope.

He swiped his pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the desk. The hankering for a cigarette came as a result of Adam's mystifying silences, Nigel was sure. Adam was predictable, and after only two and a half weeks, Nigel was memorizing his tics.

Nigel lit the cigarette, and stepped out onto the balcony to disperse the smoke into the air.

“What are you thinking, love?” He asked.

Adam's head popped up from the telescope, blue eyes wide and innocent.

“What?” He asked.

“I can tell you're thinking something, so come on. Out with it.” Nigel urged.

Adam's gaze darted away from Nigel's. He tinkered with the telescope a moment longer before drawing in a deep breath.

“Say you won't be mad.”

“Fine, I won't be mad.” Nigel said, spreading his hands.

“I just keep thinking about you, and your life.” Adam said, “Your life back in Romania, I mean. With the, um, drugs and everything.”

“What about it?”

“Well, you're here now in America.” Adam said, “What will you do now?”

“Do?”

“Will you sell drugs here in America?”

“I, uh ..” Nigel said, scraping a hand through his hair, “You're asking me things _I_ don't even know the answer to, sweetheart.”

“You don't have a plan?”

“The plan was to get the hell out of Dodge before I wound up six feet under.” Nigel said, “It's not as organized as you think. Hell, half the time it isn't even effective.”

Adam's eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“There's a system.” Nigel said, “Who sells, who buys, who produces it. There's territory, there's regulars. There's people you trust, and people you don't. But we don't plan for the boss of the whole operation – me – to be uprooted from my whole fucking life and have to start from scratch. I'm saying I wasn't prepared, starman. Not in the fucking least.”

“Then why did you leave?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” Adam said, lifting his chin a notch.

Nigel took a drag of his cigarette, and flicked ashes over the balcony.

“All right.” He said, “It was pretty simple, and my own damn fault to be quite fucking honest.”

Adam's eyes widened.

“This business, drugs, arms, money – it's all about greed.” Nigel said, “You won't be successful if you're not just a little be greedy for it all. I don't have a problem admitting it. It's been life since I was a young man.”

“Okay. What happened?"

“I had a good set-up.” Nigel said, “Years ago, while I was still breaking into the business, I met a guy named Darko. He had just inherited a night club from his dad. It wasn't doing well. Together, we decided to remake the club into something better, and use it to channel the money from the drug trade. He was the middle man. He met people, influential, rich people in his club, and he would give them my name. If they got in contact with me, I would set up a drop at the club. It was easy and smooth since it all went down in one place, in a controlled environment.”

“So what happened?”

"I got _too_ greedy. My business was doing good, I was getting my own contacts. I decided to cut out the middle man.”

“Cut out Darko?”

“Yep.” Nigel said, “He got a cut of every profit, and I was fucking sick of it. He wasn't exactly pulling his weight. With enough regulars coming through, he was sitting pretty without having to lift a fucking finger. Around the same time as this was all going down, a stupid old man with a tape decided to blackmail both of us.”

“Tape?”

“Evidence that could be turned into the police.” Nigel said, “I left the country for awhile, and when I came back, we were both trying to find the tape. For a minute, our personal beef was on hold. We just both wanted to get rid of the damn tape. Then the cops showed up and started shooting, and as they say, the rest is history. Everybody in Romania wanted me dead.”

“So you left.”

“So I left.”

Adam nodded, slowly.

“Are you scared of that life?” Nigel asked, “Of it catching up with me?”

“No.” Adam murmured, shaking his head. “I know you would protect me.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don't fit into that life. We are very different, Nigel.” Adam said, “What if you get all better one day, and decide you want to go back? You have your life, and I have mine. Maybe they are just intersecting for a little while.”

“Adam.” Nigel said, shaking his head.

He flicked his cigarette over the edge of the balcony, and marched to Adam in a few long strides. He caught Adam's cheeks between his palms, his grip fierce at the very thought of losing Adam.

“That won't happen.” Nigel whispered, “I swear it, starman.”

Adam drew back, sniffling. “You're sure?”

“Yes, I'm fucking sure.” Nigel said, “I've never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Adam peeked up at Nigel with soft, trusting eyes.

“Okay.” He whispered.

Nigel pressed a kiss to his forehead, and pulled back smiling.

“You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Adam. I'd be a damn fool to trade it in for the life I was living before I met you.”

“Good.” Adam said. “I want for you to stay.”

Nigel curled his arm around Adam's neck, and pulled Adam tight against his chest. Adam nestled his cheek against Nigel's shoulder, uttering a contented sigh.

They stood in that embrace on the balcony for some time, watching the stillness and twinkle of the stars, listening to the sync of their heartbeats.

Nigel pursed his lips at the swell of emotion in his throat. He cast a glance down at Adam's peaceful expression, and for a moment, he grappled with the reality of his situation. As the corners of his eyes began to sting, he pressed his fingertips to the bridge of his nose to stem the tide.

“What's wrong?” Adam whispered, lifting his head.

“Nothing.” Nigel choked out, shaking his head. “Everything's good, angel.”

“You're crying.” Adam said, brushing his fingertips against Nigel's cheek.

“No.” Nigel muttered, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

“Your eyes are wet.” Adam said, a frown touching his brow. “Yes, you are crying. What's wrong, Nigel?”

“Nothing. It's just fucking ...”

Nigel drew in a deep breath, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

Adam's head canted to one side, his eyes narrowing inquisitively.

“I'm not a man of faith.” Nigel said, his voice straining out thin and trembling. “But, I've got to blame God or someone for this.”

“Blame?”

“Look at me.” Nigel said, “Look at all these fucking scars. I've done nothing to deserve you, Adam. Nothing in my whole damn life.”

Adam gazed at him, and to Nigel, his eyes were bigger and bluer and more magnetic than the whole range of stars and space above them.

“I can't fucking accept that this has got anything to do with karma because I've never put anything this good into the world. Just fucking think, Adam. A few months ago, I was running for my fucking life, hating my whole pathetic existence. I was the worst fucking person I knew. And now, I'm here with you. How does that make sense to you?”

“Nothing makes sense.” Adam murmured, a gentle smile curling his lips. “I don't understand it myself, but I've come to learn that life doesn't make sense a lot of the time. And it doesn't have to. We just have to accept things as they are.”

“I can't not question it.” Nigel said, shaking his head. “There's always a reason.”

“Maybe the reason is that I needed you too.” Adam said, “You say you don't deserve me, but maybe I don't deserve you either. I mean, what did I do? I'm just a guy running away from his life and his failures. Isn't that what you were doing?”

“And we met on the road, going somewhere else?”

“If you believe in God, believe that he made us meet. I believe in science. The improbability of us meeting, according to science, is astounding. That's what I believe in.”

Nigel shook his head, biting back a smile.

“What?” Adam murmured, blushing.

“You amaze me, starman.” Nigel said.

He dragged Adam in for another kiss. As their lips met, he knew what he had to do.

 

~

 

 

**2 months later**

 

Early morning sunlight back-lit the smoke streaming from the tip of Nigel's cigarette. He peered past the curtains with narrowed eyes at the empty street below, hunting with skilled observance for surveillance.

Since early adulthood, he'd never known a life without fear and paranoia. Two months of domestic solitude and comfort couldn't wash away years of ingrained alertness, and though he was finally leaving the apartment for a good reason, he tensed at the thought of leaving Adam here by himself.

Darko's men hadn't made a move since beating him, but Nigel didn't trust the absence of proof that they wouldn't return.

Nigel took a deep drag of cigarette and tapped the ashes out the window. His fingers were laced with a tremble.

“Nigel?”

Nigel spun around to see Adam stumbling down the hallway in his pajamas. His hair stuck in askew ringlets, and a pair of knuckles rubbed at his sleepy eyes.

Nigel set the single duffel bag he was taking with him on the floor, flicked the cigarette out the window, and crossed the room to gather Adam in his arms.

Adam leaned into him, his body warm and pliable with lingering slumber. Nigel pressed his face into the sweet stretch of his neck, and let the familiar scent permeate his senses, like burning incense casting a protective haze over a temple.

“You're going?” Adam whispered.

“Yep.” Nigel said, plastering an easy smile on his face. He leaned back, and pecked Adam's cheek. “Just wanted a goodbye kiss.”

Adam's brow furrowed in an unhappy yet endearing scowl.

“Now, now.” Nigel said, cradling his cheek. “I'll be gone for a weekend, that's it. Three days. It'll be fine.”

“You still haven't told me why you're going.” Adam said.

“I also told you it's a surprise.” Nigel said, “It's for our future. Can you trust me on that, starman?”

Adam's cheeks expanded with a heavy sigh.

“I guess.”

“You can do three days, Adam. I know you can.” Nigel said.

“But I don't _want_ to.”

“I'll call every day. More than once.”

“I know.”

Adam's chin plummeted toward his chest. He clutched onto the front of Nigel's shirt, unwilling to release him just yet.

“Adam.” Nigel said.

“What?”

Nigel slid his fingers under Adam's chin, and guided Adam's eyes up to his own.

“I promise you, I'm doing this for us. I'll be gone for three days, and then I'll be back, like I never left. Everything will be okay.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.” Nigel said.

He held up his pink finger, and gave Adam a pointed look.

Adam grudgingly brought his hand up, and hooked his little finger around Nigel's.

“You know what you tell me.” Nigel said.

“Pinky swear can't be broken.” Adam murmured.

Nigel gave Adam's finger a squeeze with his own, and dragged Adam's knuckles to his mouth.

“That's fucking right.” Nigel said, “And it won't be.”

Adam all but whimpered as Nigel let go of his hand, and marched back to the window to pick up his duffel bag.

Nigel hoisted the bag over his shoulder, and motioned to the front door.

Adam joined him by the door, and rose on his toes to press a kiss against Nigel's mouth.

They kissed for several long moments, lips clinging on to each other at the threat of separation loomed. 

Nigel broke the kiss first. He reached for the doorknob, fighting back a wave of indecision. He could forget the plan right now, and stay home with Adam.

“I'm gonna miss my flight.” Nigel murmured.

Adam took a step back, and wrapped his arms around his waist. His eyes blinked wide and trusting, as vast and swallowing as a cloudless sky.

“I love you, starman.” Nigel said.

“I love you too.” Adam whispered.

Nigel conjured a reassuring smile, and stepped out the door before he could change his mind.

 

~

 

Nigel still fucking hated flying, but as he gazed out the window at the puffy, white clouds sailing past, he couldn't help but chuckle. The last time he'd been 30,000 feet in the air, he hadn't a clue the profound changes that were about to occur in his life.

He could still recall walking into the waiting area at gate 23B, and seeing the empty chair next to a strange young man with the prettiest eyes he had ever seen.

Adam had touched down on the stout bedrock of his heart like lightning striking and severing the ground. Unpredictable, unlikely, unaware that he would leave a mark that would last forever.

Nigel leaned back against his seat with a smile tugging at his mouth. The memory was the most convincing reassurance he had thought through since deciding on this plan of action. Their relationship had happened by chance, but he had to do all that he could to make sure it thrived. He wouldn't leave the rest of their lives to the synchronicity that had allowed them to meet.

Seven and a half hours later, the airplane began it's descent toward a small speck of land that emerged from the vast blue of the ocean.

Nigel waited impatiently for the captain to announce that they could deplane. When they were free to leave the plane, he shouldered his way into the aisle, and marched into the airport ahead of the bulk of the passengers. He took the escalator down to baggage claim, and circled the belt like a prowling animal as he waited for the luggage to begin it's ride down the conveyor.

He grabbed his duffel bag as soon as it rolled onto the belt, and slung it over his shoulder.

Outside, the air was stifling hot with humidity, and the sun beat down with unforgiving brightness.

Nigel waved down a cab, and ducked into the backseat. Fishing a slip of paper out of his pocket, he read off the address to the driver.

The driver smoked out the open window as he pulled away from the curb, and weaved around the myriad of buses, cabs, and other vehicles that clogged the thoroughfare out to the street.

Nigel leaned back against the seat, and glanced out the window at the sidewalks congested with groups of tourists clutching their cameras, and wearing gift shop t-shirts. At one corner was a memorial to the people who had established island, and at the next was a McDonalds. Duty free shops and jewelry stores were crammed in between the local restaurants, dive bars and banks, and just beyond a sturdy fence, boats and cruise ships rocked on the gentle waves of the serendipitous Caribbean.

Nigel grunted at the innumerable tourists. After two months of seclusion in Adam's apartment, he'd lost the last bit of tolerance he had for large groups of people. To him, they looked like cattle being herded along by tour guides and the lure of tax-free jewels.

He had to remind himself that he was here for Adam. For them.

Nigel rolled down the window, and lit a cigarette to ease the sense of claustrophobia gripping at his chest.

The driver braked at the curb in front of a small hotel with a brick facade and gabled windows. Between the modern structures, it was a relic from a simpler time; but Nigel wasn't here for the taste of the island's culture. The hotel accepted cash only transactions and took down whatever name was given. It was run by locals who wouldn't question Nigel's bag of weapons or even a bloody nose if he had been followed here.

Nigel paid the driver, and muttered his gratitude.

He looked up and down the crowded streets as he strode to the front door of the hotel. He didn't see anyone who appeared particularly interested in him, but his quick check didn't ease his paranoia. The streets were overcrowded, making spotting a tail next to impossible. Darko could have had five men out there for all he knew.

At the front desk, Nigel gave a false name, and paid in cash. The young woman gave him a key, and told him to go up to the stairs to the right.

Nigel followed her directions up to the room number 5. He let himself in with a turn of the key in the brass doorknob, and pressed the door shut behind him.

The room was small but clean. The bed with it's ancient brass frame, a TV, a desk, and a telephone were the only furnishings. The bathroom was the size of a closet, with a single-person shower shoved against the wall, and the toilet and sinking facing one another with three feet of space between them.

Nigel sat down on the bed, eliciting a squeal from the from the springs.

Unzipping his bag, he took a metal case from among the clothes, and unlatched it. Nestled in foam packaging was his favored Walther PPQ 9mm pistol. Two extra mags had their places in the foam underneath the barrel.

Nigel eased the gun from it's mounting in the case, and weighed it in his hand. The sculpted grip of the pistol rested comfortably in his palm, giving him a sense of ease that had eluded him since landing at the airport. He didn't know whether or not he would require the weapon, but he never traveled without protection. The Walther had taken down more than one person meaning to do him harm.

Holding the gun across his knee, Nigel pulled out his cellphone and dialed one of the few numbers saved to the phone.

“Hello?”

“Ciprian, it's Nigel. I'm in Grand Cayman now. Is everything in place?”

“Yes, yes, everything's done, just like you asked.”

“Good.”

There was a buzz of silence over the line, but Nigel could sense his second's unease.

“Just fucking come out and say what you're thinking, Ciprian.” Nigel said, “I know you want to fucking say something, so spit it out.”

“Boss, are you sure you want to do this?” Ciprian asked.

“Have you ever known me to be uncertain?”

“It's just that ...”

“That what?”

“You've said it yourself … You can be a little … obsessed, you know.”

Nigel dragged his thumb across the smooth grain of the pistol in irritation. He didn't like being questioned by his subordinate. He didn't like it that Ciprian was right.

“That doesn't fucking mean I'm not sure.”

“Gabi clouded your judgment, Nigel. Maybe this weird kid is doing the same thing.”

“He's not fucking weird.” Nigel snapped, “He's fucking different. Different from all the rest of you stupid, brainless cows, all right?”

Ciprian fell silent.

“ _This_ is different.” Nigel added, more quietly. “Different than fucking Gabi Fucking Ibanescu. I can't tell you why, it just is. And I want you to fucking trust me, and if you can't do that, at least keep your stupid, fat mouth shut. This is my life, Ciprian, not yours, and I'll do as I damn well please.”

“I know, boss. You always do as you damn well please.”

“Fuck right. And I don't want to hear your lip about it.”

“Sorry, boss.”

Nigel leaned back against the pillows, and squeezed his eyes shut. He threw his arm over his shoulder with the Walther still gripped in his hand. It laid on the pillow next to him, where Adam's head should have been.

Christ, he missed his starman already.

“I'm doing it tomorrow.” Nigel said, “And nothing is going to change my fucking mind. So just do as you're told.”

“Yes, boss.”

Nigel hung up on Ciprian without a farewell, and tossed the cellphone onto the mattress.

He remained on the mattress as the yellow sunlight began to fade into turmeric and lavender sunset that sprawled through the open window and doused his dour disposition in beauty.

Nigel rose from the bed and wandered to the window with the gun dangled in his fingertips. The sunset rolled on toward the horizon to meet with the pale blue of the ocean. His chest ached to share this moment with Adam, knowing Adam would appreciate it even more than he could.

Nigel grabbed the cellphone from the bed, and snapped a picture. The low quality of the phone camera couldn't even begin to capture the awe-inspiring beauty of the Caribbean sunset, but it was the best he could do.

Nigel sent the photo to Adam. His thumbs twitched above the keyboard for a moment before adding a caption. _I can't stop thinking about you._

He chuckled at his own sappiness. Perhaps Ciprian was right; maybe he'd lost his damn mind – again. But he'd never been more happy to accept his own insanity.

Adam was quick to reply.

_It's beautiful. I miss you._

Nigel responded, _I'm going to call. I miss hearing your voice._

He didn't wait for Adam to text a response before he exited the messaging and dialed Adam's number. The phone rang once, and Adam picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hello, gorgeous. How are you doing?”

“I missed you a lot today.” Adam said, “It was weird coming home from work, and you not being here.”

“I know, I missed you like hell.” Nigel said.

“Did the flight go well?”

“As well as it can go. I'm here at the hotel in one piece.”

“You still can't tell me where you are?”

“Still a surprise.” Nigel said.

“You're somewhere in the Caribbean.” Adam said, “I can tell that much from the picture.”

“Good eye.”

“It's an approximation according to time zones.” Adam said, “You can't be too far away or else it wouldn't be evening where you are.”

“Smart.” Nigel said, a smile tugging at his lips, “I won't give you anymore clues, genius.”

Adam huffed, and Nigel could image his adorable frown.

“How was work?” Nigel asked.

“Oh, yes!” Adam said, his tone brightening, “I have to tell you.”

Nigel walked back to the bed, and plopped down against the mattress to listen to Adam's rambling stories about the observatory. It was the simplest way to ease him away from the mystery of Nigel's traveling. He could talk for hours about the observatory and his work with the satellites.

Nigel curled up with his phone and the gun, content to listen to Adam's voice coming with babbling excitement through the speaker. It was like a magical chant, warding away the monsters from his door.

 

~

 

Three days conclude a weekend, but to Adam, they felt like an eternity.

As a creature of enduring habit, and someone who didn't enjoy being alone, he'd acclimated to Nigel's presence at the apartment in a matter of days. In two months, Nigel had become a fixture in his life. An intricate, warm, comforting fixture that Adam relied on.

It didn't help that not knowing Nigel's location was eating away at his nerves.

For the three days of Nigel's absence, Adam woke up alone and stared at the ceiling, resisting the thought of getting up and facing the day. He would drag himself out of bed, eat his cereal, and leave for work, casting one last forlorn glance into the empty apartment before locking the door behind him. When he returned in the evening, there was no pair of arms immediately smothering him, and eager lips against his neck.

The only relief came with Nigel's nightly phone calls. They spoke for hours each night, and Adam closed his eyes, trying to imagine that Nigel was sitting right next to him.

The third day, Adam returned home from work, and set about making his dinner. His hands held a tremor as his mind focused on Nigel's return home. His eyes drifted to the clock, keeping track of every minute that passed until he would hear the front door open.

Nigel's flight was scheduled to land at LAX at 6:30. From there, he would take a taxi home to the apartment. The drive would take another hour.

Adam ate his dinner, and wandered into the living room. Despite knowing it wasn't time, he walked to the window and peeked past the curtains at the street below. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, checked the time, and looked for a message from Nigel. Nothing. He was probably still in the air.

Adam bit back a sigh. He flopped down on the couch, and turned on the TV to distract himself.

He'd spent the past three days attempting to formulate every possible idea as to where Nigel could have gone, and what he was doing. And why he wouldn't tell Adam. They told each other everything; why wouldn't Nigel tell Adam where he was?

Insecurity gnawed just at the back of Adam's mind, but Nigel's nightly phone calls held his fears at bay. Nigel wasn't leaving him, but he was doing something of great importance.

Adam's greatest fear now was Romania.

Nigel was almost healed from his head injury, and from the beating. Being fit of body and mind, he could do anything, and go anywhere he wanted. He didn't need to rely on Adam any longer. Perhaps he would remember the golden days of his drug business in Romania, and decide he wanted to find a way to continue making money that way. Perhaps he was off somewhere far away, brokering new deals. Perhaps he'd gone to settle the score with Darko.

When Nigel first told him about his life of crime in Bucharest, Adam had pretended it didn't matter. That he could handle it. In retrospect, that cavalier attitude had been foolhardy.

Adam was scared. Scared Nigel would leave and never return. Scared he would get hurt. Scared money was more important to him than Adam.

As another hour crawled by, and Adam tried to focus his mind on the nature documentary playing on the TV, the lump of dread in his belly grew to the weight of a boulder. He was vibrating with nervous energy, hands shaking and nerves crawling.The slightest sounds made him jar, but the moment his ears perked to the sound of a car door slamming below the window, he was out of the couch with a leap of joy.

Adam threw the curtains back from the window, and pressed close to the glass to the see the taxi parked below.

Nigel ducked out of the back seat, and swaggered around the back to pull his duffel bag out of the trunk. Adam tracked his movements with breathless relief. He was even pleased by Nigel's habit of patting every pocket for his cigarettes before finding them stuffed in his shirt pocket, just like they always were.

Adam sagged against the window, breathing steam across the glass. The nausea fled his belly, replaced by a warm, undulating happiness.

Juggling his bags, Nigel bent his head to light the cigarette dangling from between his lips. He scraped his hair back from his forehead, and tossed a glance up the window. Their eyes met, and Nigel winked.

Adam gave a halting chuckle, and pressed a greeting hand to the window.

Grinning, Nigel jogged up the front steps of the apartment building, and disappeared past the front door.

Adam staggered to the door of the apartment, his limbs weak with the release of tension. He dragged the front door open, and leaned against the frame as he waited for Nigel to come around the next flight of stairs.

Nigel's heavy footfalls heralded his appearance. As he mounted the last flight of stairs to their floor, Adam broke away from the door frame, and ran to meet him.

Nigel had barely reached the last step when Adam lunged on him. He grabbed onto the handrail to steady himself as Adam wrapped both arms around his neck, and pressed hard against him.

“Hey, Adam.” Nigel chuckled, wrapping his free arm around Adam's waist. “Miss me much?”

Adam drew back, trying to contain his smile.

“I missed you like crazy.” He said, “Why did you have to be gone so long?”

Nigel's expression sobered, but his eyes glinted with mischief.

“Let's go inside, and I'll show you.”

Adam frowned. “Okay.”

Gripping Adam's hand, Nigel led them down to the hall to where their door stood open. He pushed the door shut behind them, and dropped his duffel bag to the floor. He turned, grabbing Adam by the waist, and pushing him up against the door. His mouth slanted warm and hungry across Adam's, scraping Adam's tender skin with three day's growth of stubble.

Adam moaned, hands fluttering against Nigel's chest in shock and pleasure.

Nigel shifted closer, pressing his knee between Adam's legs, and wrapping both hands around Adam's jaw. One hand slid up through Adam's curls, laying hold at the nape, and dragging his head back to deepen the kiss. His tongue urged past Adam's pliant lips, and pulsed in lavish strokes against Adam's tongue.

Adam moaned, and melted against the solid weight of Nigel's body. All sense of fear and insecurity was lost to the power, desire, and affection coursing through Nigel's body and rolling in waves against Adam's.

Nigel drew back after a long moment, and leaned his forehead against Adam's.

They both panted in exhilaration, eyes meeting in silent intimacy.

“Fuck, I missed you, starman.” Nigel whispered, his voice coarse and husky.

“I missed you too.” Adam murmured.

Nigel nuzzled against Adam's cheek, and suckled his earlobe. Adam squirmed, pushing against the hard plane of Nigel's chest.

“I'm going make long, sweet love to you tonight, darling.” Nigel whispered, “So good you'll go hoarse from moaning.”

“Nigel ...” Adam whimpered, feeling his cheeks grow hot.

Nigel pulled back, a devilish grin slashed across his cheeks. He stroked Adam's blushing cheek with an affectionate thumb.

“But first, I said I'd show you why I had to leave for three days.” He said.

“Yes.” Adam said, “You need to explain yourself.”

Nigel pressed one last hasty kiss to Adam's mouth before taking Adam's hand, and dragging him to the kitchen.

He pointed a finger at Adam's laptop sitting on the kitchen table.

“I need you to go to a website.” He said.

Adam frowned. “Why?”

Nigel took out his wallet, and plucked a card from inside. He set the card in front of Adam.

“That website.”

Adam picked up the card, and read all the words and numbers listed.

“This is a bank account.” He said.

“Yes. I want you to access it.” Nigel said.

“Okay.”

Adam typed in the website, and filled in the information to access the account. Nigel leaned over his shoulder, and took over the keyboard to enter the password. His hands hovered over Adam's shoulders as the page loaded, and displayed the account information.

Adam's mouth slipped open as he read the balance once, twice, three times to ensure what he was seeing.

“Th-that's … that's a lot of zeros.” He whispered.

“Remember how I told you not to worry about the sock money you used to buy me the cigarettes and those other things?” Nigel asked.

Adam nodded. “You said it wasn't your life savings.”

“No, it wasn't. This is.”

Adam spun around in the chair to gape at Nigel. Nigel's mouth twitched with a pleased smile.

“I-I don't … I don't understand.” Adam stammered.

“Right about now, my second, Ciprian, is showing a video to my troops.” Nigel said, “Well, his troops now.”

Adam's frown deepened.

“For the last two months, I've been giving Ciprian orders to take all the money out of my accounts in Romania, and put them in news ones attached to the fake identity I purchased right after Darko's men came to the apartment. Some of it got invested, and the rest of it, I had put into temporary accounts. This weekend, I moved it all to a secure account in Grand Cayman. Nobody but you or me can access it.”

Adam turned back to the computer screen. His mouth lay open, and his fingers trembled over the keyboard.

“All this money ...” He whispered, “It's yours?”

Nigel pulled one of the chairs up next to Adam's, and sat down next to him. He reached out a hand to turn Adam's chin toward him.

“It's ours, starman.”

Adam swallowed hard, and blinked. He could hear what Nigel was saying, and he could see the seriousness in Nigel's eyes; but he could hardly reconcile that what he was experiencing was part of reality.

“Do you believe me?” Nigel asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I-I … I don't know.” Adam whispered, “It seems too good to be true.”

“That's what I thought, when I met you.”

“That's different.”

“Maybe.” Nigel said, “But this is reality, Adam. It's the choice I've made.”

“I don't know if I understand.”

Nigel drew in a deep breath, and combed a hand through his hair. Lacing his fingers through Adam's, he squeezed hard.

“I had a … revelation, I guess you could call it, a couple months back. It was that night that Jupiter was in view, and you just had to get out of bed in the middle of the night to look at it.”

“I remember.” Adam whispered.

“You asked me what would happen when I got better.” Nigel said, “At that point, I had no fucking clue. I was kind of making things up as I went a long – truth be told, I had been making it up ever since I got shot because my life was falling apart around my fucking ears. I had no clue where I was going, what my future was going to look like. That's when you showed up, starman.”

“What was your revelation?”

“The way I saw it, I had a choice. Choice A. I could go back to Romania, and figure out a way to reclaim my territory from Darko. I could go back to the people and the streets that I knew. I could do what I've always done. I could justify it all in the good life - in the money, the cars, the mansions, the whores, the drugs, the alcohol, the respect I thought I had had from the people around me. It would have been the easiest thing to do, because it's what I've done my whole life. But, then, I thought, the fucking memories, Adam. How could I forget them? How could I forget you?”  
Adam blinked.

“That's choice B.” Nigel whispered, leaning closer. “You, Adam. This life.” He swept a hand toward the apartment. “What little we have here … I realized it was more than all the stuff I thought I had back home. Those things were just … _things._ Impermanent little, trivial things that I didn't really care about as much as I thought I did. That night when you reminded me about the huge unlikelihood of us meeting, I thought – _Fuck everything. Fuck my whole stupid, pointless life. I have to take the risk_.”

Adam looked between Nigel, and the computer screen displaying the bank account.

“This is choice B?”

“Yes.” Nigel said, his lips trembling around a smile. “I know, it's money. It looks awfully shallow. But it's all I have to offer you, Adam.”

“You're leaving Romania behind?” Adam asked, “You mean, you're never going back?”

“That's what I mean.”

Adam pursed his lips against the emotion that rushed up to clutch the back of his throat. Tears swelled against his eyelids, and blinked, crushing them to his cheeks.

“B-but, Nigel, that's your life.” He whispered, his voice choked with tears. “You can't just throw it all away … f-for me. I'm … I'm just … _me_.”

“Adam, don't be stupid.”

Nigel grasped Adam's wet cheeks, and dragged him around so their eyes could meet. Adam blinked against the rush of tears, hands tugging weakly at Nigel's wrists.

“You're not just you.” Nigel whispered. “You're everything, Adam. The whole fucking universe … to me. I don't give a fuck what I had before, or what I'm leaving behind. It's all pointless in comparison to the last few months with you.”

Adam sniffed, and swallowed against the lump of tears in the back of his throat.

“What if … what if you change your mind?” He whispered, “Later on … I mean, what if we start this life together, and then you realize it's not as great as you thought?”  
Nigel sighed, and shook his head.

“You don't fucking realize how amazing you are, love.” He whispered, “You don't realize you changed my life.”

“I just … I just want you to be happy.” Adam whispered, “And I'm afraid I'm not enough to give you that.”

Nigel's palms tightened around Adam's cheeks.

“Adam, you listen to me.” He whispered, fiercely, “You are enough. More than enough. You've made me happier in two months than I've been in my whole goddamn sorry life. Whatever was in store for me back in Romania, it's never going to be better than our worst day together. That's just how it fucking is, starman, so you better get used to it.”

Adam's mouth twitched with a smile despite the tears still gleaming in his eyes.

“If you can't believe it yourself, just trust me.” Nigel said, “You told me once that you trusted me.”

“I do.” Adam whispered, “I trust you, Nigel.”

He tugged Nigel's hands from his face, and pressed himself against Nigel's chest. Nigel hummed a sigh of relief as his arms wound around Adam's shoulders.

“Christ, I love you.”

Adam's voice was muffled in Nigel's shoulder. “I love you, too.”

Silence settled like a warm blanket over the kitchen as they embraced. Just outside the window, the sun was going down behind the pale peaks of the San Gabriel mountains, and the first lights of the stars peeked past puffy, pink clouds. In the silence, Adam could feel Nigel's heart beating against his cheek, a steady, strong rhythm that offered the deepest comfort. This moment was what happiness felt like, he was sure. This moment, no matter what happened in the future, or what struggles came, would be untouchable from darkness. In this moment, those stars with all their light, their fire, and their endurance, were shining just for them.

 

~the end~

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [Tumblr!](http://clairehales.tumblr.com//)!


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